


Shehecheyanu

by Goomba_Fortress



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 08:25:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goomba_Fortress/pseuds/Goomba_Fortress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When you have someone else by your side, you don't really live outside of them. When they're gone, you learn." Five years after a golden childhood is shattered with a few bullets, Elsa learns what it is to be free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Elsa Markham had laid herself out in the grass of her grandmothers front lawn, and now that some time had passed, the young woman could no longer feel the luminary's glare on her porcelain skin. She could hear the faint roaring of fighter planes launching from the military base nearby and Elsa felt slightly disoriented for a moment. Having been sent out into the yard to enjoy the sunshine while it was there, she suspected her parents and her grandparents were discussing the war inside, and such talk was not appropriate for a lady like her. 

Standing to her full height with her guide stick in hand, she negotiated the sidewalk inside and heard the carefully controlled voices of the matriarch. 

“We can't afford to stay here any longer.” Came the hushed voice of Joan, her mother. 

“Well, what do you suppose we do? All the travel is coordinated by the SS. If they find out about her, Mengele will snatch her up without a second thought.” Her breath caught in her throat when the blind young woman realized they were talking about her. 

“This is not the Austria we knew,” came the wise voice of her grandfather. Grandpapa knew what to say, he would get her out of this. He had to.

Elsa's ears picked up the scraping of wooden chair legs on linoleum tile and she felt her mothers practiced hand grip her elbow gently.

“Come, edelweiss, we have much to do.” It had become their secret code for her. Edelweiss was the family favorite and it symbolized the strong nationalism still present within the fabric of the oppressed people. Elsa felt proud to have been called by that name. 

“Who is Mengele, papa?” 

“No one you will ever meet, Elsa.” Kurt was resolute in his words as he packed his small family inside the volkswagon. 

Dinner that night was minestrone soup, Joan claimed that a storm was coming and the soup would keep everyone strong. Little else was said around the Markham family dinner table and Elsa couldn't stand it. 

“Why don't we just flee to America?” Elsa's friend Liesl had gone with her family weeks ago, unable to withstand the German oppression.

“This is our home, edelweiss. I will not abandon it, and neither will you.”

“This hasn't been our home since der fuhrer took it over.” Elsa's voice rose with anger. 

“You may be right child, but the time has passed for us to flee safely. We will wait it out here.” 

“Why did we wait so long, papa?”

Kurt was quiet and Elsa knew why they couldn't leave. 

“Mother, if you would excuse me” Elsa muttered softly as she left the dinner table. 

Her room was the last one to the right and she let the back of her hand trail against the wallpaper until it came across the brass knob of her bedroom door. Closing her door for privacy, she sat on her tiny cot in the corner and reached for the leatherbound volume she kept by her bedside. She could no longer read it, but she knew what it was as she clutched it to her chest. 

“Abba, things here are getting rough. Sometimes I wonder if you are even listening. Your children die by the thousands, and this war has marched on.” Tears had threatened to spill over her cheeks as she thought back to the SS raid a few nights ago. 

She had awoken to the sound of splintering wood and fractured glass. Yelling, both in German and in Hebrew ensued and she heard a rush of footsteps, a burp of gunfire and the driving away of a car. 

Elsa awoke later that night to what sounded to be like a lions roar in her ears. The rain had escalated outside just beyond the pressed fingertips to the cool glass and she felt feverish. The leather bible had slid off of her lap and made a foreign sounding thud on the floor. Bending down, she groped in the inky blackness for the familiar book. 

“Come, dear one,” called a faintly father-like voice. Elsa's head snapped up and she quieted her harsh breathing and trained her ears to listen for the disturbance once more. 

“Come to me, child.” Came the voice again. She turned her face towards the window and in a flash of brilliance, the image of a lion appeared in her minds eye, standing just on the brink of the forest. Not bothering to grab her cane, she pounded down the ten steps and flung open the front door. Elsa ran across the street, her bare feet splashing in the rainwater until they hit the lush grass. 

“A little closer, beloved.” 

“Who are you?” Elsa yelled, breaking into a jog into the dense forest. She had stumbled over a fallen timber and was pretty sure she was bleeding somewhere, but the strange, yet comforting voice beckoned her further still. After hours of traipsing in the mud and the rain, she sunk to her knees in the soft moss and felt the rain pelt her sodden locks.

Her throat was raw from screaming and tears were freely running down her face. She was sick, completely lost and for the first time since the accident; Elsa Markham felt completely helpless. 

“Abba, help me,” she prayed as she drifted off into unconsciousness.

\---

“I found her just laying there, face down in the mud after the rain stopped this morning. She looks more like a drenched rat than anything else.” 

“So what makes you think we want her?”

“She was talking in her sleep. Said 'Abba help me.' She's a jew, sir.”

The commander considered the lieutenants words carefully before giving his nod of consent. The occupation of Austria had brought many of the fleeing jews out of hiding already and many more still were popping out of the woodwork trying to cross the borders into Switzerland. Giving a careful stir to his tea he didn't look up when the young woman was half drug into the room. 

“I'm sure by now you have heard fantastic rumors about what happens to certain citizens,” the commander started. “I can assure you, nothing you have heard is true.” Here, the commander sipped at his coffee and gave a thoughtful glance to the young Fraulein sitting opposite of him. She said nothing, gave no indication she was even alive and the commander let his fist fall on the table. The young woman gave a start and her cloudy gray eyes darted around the room, never really focusing on one thing.

“Oh, this is a most fortunate development indeed.” Elsa hung her head until she heard his footsteps echo down the hallway. 

“We have one for the experimentation chambers.” A gruff voice at the end of the hallway reached her acute ears and terror gripped the young Austrian girl. 

“Fear not, dear one. I have not left you.” The voice gripped at her and even now, in the midst of the enemy's camp, she felt no fear.

The cell where they had stuffed her had a pile of hay in one corner, and rotting timbers above her gave way to the sky. Elsa now felt truly alone, as the voice hadn't said anything in quite some time. 

“Are you still there?” She wasn't even sure she had said anything until a warmth spread through her limbs. 

“Always, young one.”

“Who are you?”

“We will meet soon enough. Rest now.” Elsa didn't need to be told twice and her head cushioned up against her arm faster than she thought possible. 

 

When Elsa awoke next, she felt wind rushing by her head and she had no idea why these strange things kept happening to her 

“Be still, you are safe.” It was the warm voice, and this time it was accompanied by long, soft hair and a gentle breeze. 

“Where am I?”

“Not where you were last. Fear not.” And as she sunk into unconsciousness, she didn't fear.

“Peter, she has been through quite the ordeal. Don't ask her where she is from.”

“She isn't Narnian?” Peter's brow knitted in confusion.

“She is from your world, that is all I will say.” Aslan's words were cryptic at best and as he watched the lion pad down the beach some time later, the young king decided to pay the new guest a visit. 

Elsa awoke to the scent of jasmine and vanilla floating in the air. She was most certainly not back in the cell in downtown Salzburg. 

“Calm down, you are safe here.” A female voice greeted her and she sat up slowly.

“And where is here, exactly?” 

“Cair Paravel, in Narnia.” The voice answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I'm Susan.” Elsa could hear the smile in Susan's voice and it reminded her of her own mother. 

“Elsa.” She answered simply and let her hands roam over the quilted surface of the blankets. Care had been taken to weave each piece of fabric together and Elsa thought it was a nice touch. Her ears picked up the slight “Oh” that Susan had uttered. 

“I'm sorry, that was incredibly rude of me.” Elsa heard her skirts shifting, as if she was readying to leave so soon. 

“No, please. It's okay, I'm used to it.” Elsa made a move to stand and was frustrated when Susan laid a hand on her arm.

“You are still very weak. When Aslan found you, you were barel alive.” 

“Aslan?” Elsa felt more confused now than she ever had in all her seventeen years. It was then that her acute ears picked up the turning of a brass knob and an a set of footsteps into the room. 

“Su, can I speak to her alone?” A males voice penetrated the thick awkwardness. 

“Sure. I'll speak to you later, Elsa.” She felt herself nodding mechanically as Susan's skirts whisked out of the room. 

“Peter, a moment?” Peter followed his sister out of the room and Susan took a deep breath before beginning. 

“Peter, I don't know what happened to her, but I think she may be in denial. Don't ask her anything.” 

“I know, Aslan already warned me.” 

“Her accent does sound familiar though.” Susan added after a beat. Peter nodded and gave his sister a reassuring smile. 

“Don't worry, Su. How bad could it be?” Peter waltzed back into the room and sank into the chair beside the bed. She really was a mess. Her pallid skin was covered in dirt and brambles had woven themselves into her platinum blonde curls. Storm gray eyes were staring down at nothing and a strong jaw line betrayed little of her emotions, if any. Peter suddenly felt as if he couldn't handle this. 

“Uh, I'm Peter. I suppose Su already told you a few things? And I thought you might be hungry so I brought you this.” Peter put a bundle on her lap and she smelled fresh bread, grapes and cheese. 

“This smells wonderful, thank you Peter.” Elsa smiled in the direction she hoped he was sitting and prayed he wouldn't pass judgment on her. 

“When you feel up to it, just notify someone outside your room and we will send a maid.” 

After considering stumbling around a strange room and possibly injuring herself, she nodded while popping a grape into her mouth. “That might be a good idea.”

“Should you feel up to it, you can join us for dinner tonight.” 

“Is it morning?” Elsa by now had lost all track of time. 

“Just past ten I believe.” He watched her run a hand through her hair and grimace at its oily content. 

“I believe a bath is in order.” 

Peter laughed “That would be my cue to leave. I'll send in Drin.” 

Elsa sat back in the bed and laid the now empty cloth aside. This was shaping up to be an interesting delusion, and she wondered how long she could keep this up. One thing was for sure, Peter intrigued her. 

Someone who she could only guess to be Drin padded quietly into the room. “I'm Drin, milady. I'm to tend to you.” 

“Please. It's just Elsa.” 

“If it's what pleases you, Elsa. Would you like me to draw your bath?” Elsa's face split into a smile. 

“Is it that obvious that I need one?” 

“Unfortunately so. I'll get the water started.” 

After waiting for what seemed like forever and nearly dozing off, the bathtub was full and she felt Drin pulling her to her feet. She found herself missing her cane as she stepped carefully on the cold marble floor.

“I've got you, miss. Trust me.” The young woman's arm wrapped around Elsa's middle and after stripping her bare, eased her into the pleasantly warm water.

“What is life like here?” 

“It is wonderful. The kings and queens are very gracious. It's no wonder that the nation has been prospering lately.” Drin poured water over Elsa's head and she found herself sputtering at the unexpected drenching.

“I'm terribly sorry!”

“Just tell me next time.” Elsa reached a hand up and patted Drin's smooth hand gently. “It's okay, really.” 

“If you are sure.”

“I am sure, you should be sure of yourself too.” It would be much later in life before Drin would appreciate that piece of advice. 

Hours later found Elsa clean and Susan behind her wielding a brush. Susan had brought in a few of her old gowns and it was decided to fit Elsa in a deep red linen gown with white lacing detail. 

“It's beautiful, I promise.” 

“I trust you, Susan.” 

“Susan, just when were you planning on telling me we had a guest?” A girl bounded into the room and she smelled of daisies and lilacs 

“I thought you might have figured it out eventually.” Susan said in an even tone as she pulled the brush through Elsa's locks. Elsa found herself laughing and she turned her attention to the girl. 

“What is your name?” 

“I'm Lucy. You must be Elsa. Peter has been going on about little else. But he was right, you are pretty.” Elsa felt a blush rise in her cheeks and she bowed her head. 

“Well Lucy. What do you do for fun around here?” 

“There is a lovely field not far from the castle and it's absolutely beautiful.” 

“I knew you smelled like wildflowers for a reason.” Elsa's eyebrow arcs in what she assumes is the little girl's direction and she quirks a smile. 

“You just got here, perhaps it would be prudent to take it easy.” Susan attempted to diffuse the situation and Elsa stood, stretching her limbs. She was tired, but it would do her good to get outside. 

“Actually, that sounds like exactly what I need.” Elsa reached for Susan and gripped her elbow. 

“Lead on.” Elsa could hardly wait.


	2. Chapter 2

The Narnian sun was bright that day and Elsa felt it's rays on her skin the moment they were past the high gates. She breathed in the sweet air around her and smiled. This was what bliss was. Elsa heard Lucy dash off into the wildflowers, her skirts billowing behind and snagging on poppies. Elsa breathed in the salty air and the sound of waves crashing into a cliff side was almost entrancing. 

“We're by the sea?” The smell of salt had slammed her the minute she set foot outside.

“Cair Paravel is the castle by the sea.” Susan said it as if it was the most natural thing, to live in a castle by the sea. To live in a castle, much less. The hovel in the business end of the city hardly counted as a home before and it certainly didn't now. 

“She gets so excited sometimes. It's hard to remember that she is still a little girl.” At the mention of the younger girl in the flowers, Elsa cocked her head and sat with Susan in the grass.

“Why would it be difficult?”

“Being a queen, even as young as she is, the weight of social order is thrust on her at such a young age.” Susan remarked.

“A queen?”

“All four of us. Peter, Ed, Lucy, and myself.” Elsa chuckled at the notion of Peter being a queen. When he had waltzed into her bedroom he had seemed like such a shy goofball, nowhere close to being a king. 

“That makes sense, I suppose.” 

“You suppose?” Now, it was Susan's turn to be confused. Susan's head turned instantly when she heard Lucy shout from a distance. 

Memories of Suzanne inundated her memory instantly as she heard Lucy exclaim over finding a ladybug. Turning her face to the sun, she willed the sadness away and it wasn't until she felt Susan's gentle hand on her arm that she remembered she was with someone. 

“Memories,” she explained, and said nothing further. 

Suzanne giggled and ran past the finish line, marked with a ribbon tied to a tree. 

“You have to keep up!” Suzanne's voice tinkled like bells and Elsa rammed into her twin's side, tackling her to the ground. Summer in Salzburg was magical, and the twelve year old sisters were celebrating the summer the way they wanted to. Joan and Kurt had taken them out to a field outside of city limits with only the restriction of rain, or sunset.

“I'll show you!” Elsa's determination shone through the dirt on her cheek as she got to her feet. “Another go!” Elsa's bare heels dug into the rich dirt and she flashed a daring grin at Suzanne. 

Suzanne, not being one to back down from a challenge merely nodded and took off into the afternoon sun, her ebony curls bouncing after her. Elsa followed her sister deep into the forest surrounding the city, leaping over fallen logs and ducking under low branches until the pair reached a sunlit glen. White flowers grew in abundance here, and it seemed they had been untouched by anyone. 

The pair collapsed into the grass, breathing heavy and laughing. Suzanne turned onto her stomach and let her silky black locks cascade down her arms. 

“I had you beat,” Elsa boasted to her older twin, rapping her slightly on the forearm.

“You wish” Suzanne scoffed and looked around the area. “Look at this place, it's awesome!” Suzanne got to her feet and twirled in the high grass and immaculate flowers. The girls were skilled dancers, and although Elsa was good, Suzanne exemplified the perfect ballerina. Her figure was slender, strong, and always picked up the new techniques faster than her slightly younger twin. 

“Does papa know that you've been reading that book again?” Elsa shook her head.

“It's better if he doesn't know” 

Elsa chanced a glance at the sky and found a bank of rainclouds, coming closer to their new found play area. 

“It's starting to rain, we should head back.” Elsa stood and brushed the dirt from her skirt. 

“Race you back.” And that daring smile, with the promise of a challenge was something Elsa could never turn down. 

Lucy's excited squeal brought her out of her reverie. The young girl strode through the grass with a bouquet clutched between her tiny fingers. 

“Susan, I found Lion's foot!” The smell of the white flower was all too familiar to Elsa and she found tears slipping from her sightless eyes. 

“Edelweiss” Elsa whispered, and she inhaled it's sweet scent like a dear friend. 

“What was that?” Susan, obviously preoccupied with something else hadn't even heard the German word tumble from Elsa's scarlet colored lips

Elsa quickly schooled her face and stood from the grass, her hands brushing dirt off the skirts. “Nothing.” 

The three prepared to head inside and Elsa was shocked when Lucy had wrapped a small lilac sprig in her hand. 

“Whats this?” Elsa's palm caressed the tender purple flower and she took a tentative sniff. The flowers potent bud flowed into her olfactory nerve and she smiled. 

“Lilac, I thought you might like it.” Lucy's voice was tender and honest; the way young girls ought to sound. 

“That is very sweet of you, dear.” A commotion in front of the girls caused Elsa to jump and coil her arm around Susan's tighter. 

“There you girls are. Rhonda says that if we are late to dinner one more time, she's not going to cook for us anymore.” 

“All you ever think about is food, Ed.” Susan joked.

“Is this the girl?” Edmund's alto voice carried into her ears and she relaxed a bit. Susan led her back into the castle, and Elsa began to commit to memory the layout of the expansive grounds. 

“You must be Edmund.” Elsa had met everyone else, except the younger brother. 

“I wish you would look at me when you talk.” Ed mumbled and Susan smacked the boy on his arm. 

“You girls are all so confusing.” Edmund grumbled all the way down the hallway until Susan reached Elsa's room. 

“Dinner is in about an hour, someone will be by to escort you down.” Susan rubbed Elsa's arm gently and the young woman walked into her quarters, closing the door behind her.

Elsa spent the time alone to learn her surroundings. Her large bed was placed against the wall, and as her hands roamed the stone walls, they stumbled across rich tapestries and paintings. After making half of a lap around the room, she found a large bay window facing the sea and she grinned, hanging her face out to feel the ocean breeze. 

When she thought about it, she realized she had no idea why she was here, or what she was doing in some make believe land. 

“This is reality, dear one.” The comforting voice washed over Elsa and she took a deep breath. 

“What am I doing here?” 

“I have not brought you here for my own agenda.” The voice cradled her gently, encouraging her and building her up. 

“Will we ever meet?”

“We will meet again.” A calming sensation washed over her and she turned to the center of the room, feeling renewed, but none the less lost on her purpose here. What on earth did it mean by “again”? The blind young woman raised a hand and shook her blonde hair, slightly frustrated. 

“Elsa, are you decent?” Peter's voice floated into her chamber and she found herself smiling. 

“As opposed to being indecent?” Elsa smirked before beckoning the young king inside. 

“Su is running a bit late downstairs, she asked me to come get you” Peter explained in a rush. Elsa laughed lightly and nodded understandingly. 

“Shall we?” She crossed the room towards his voice and it soon became an awkward twist of limbs before Elsa's slender arm found the crock of his elbow. 

“Like this?” Peter's voice was unsure, and he was pretty sure it jumped an octave as her long fingers wrapped around his bicep. 

“Yes, just like this,” Elsa smiled gently and took a deep breath as Peter led her out of her quarters and down the marble hallways. 

“This is a very vast castle,” Elsa noted, listening to her echoing voice. 

“Cair Paravel is very large. It makes for a wonderful game of hide and seek.” She heard Peter laugh quickly beside her. “Lucy can whip us all, that's for sure.” 

“She is a quick one.” Elsa agreed with Peter, remembering the afternoon among the wildflowers. 

“How was your afternoon with the girls? They didn't hound you, did they? Lucy can be persistent.” Elsa heard the cringe in his voice when he said that and she smiled quickly. 

“No, of course not. We had a wonderful time. Susan is a wonderful conversational partner,” Elsa remarked as they rounded a corner. She took in a sharp breath as the sound in the room seemed to die off in the rafters. 

“The dining room has vaulted ceilings.” Peter whispered into her ear and she eased her grip on his arm and nodded slightly. 

“I suppose that would make sense. All of his architecture is going to take some getting used to.”

“There you are, Pete. Did you get lost?” Edmund remarked from the far side of the room and she sent a scowl in his direction. 

“No, we just didn't hurry.” Peter's voice was controlled, almost icy. 

“Not on our account, that's for sure.” Ed's mumble didn't go unnoticed by the older monarch. 

“Ed, that's enough. Go be brutish elsewhere.” It was Susan that had spoken up and her voice had told Elsa that she was none too pleased with her brother. 

As Peter and Elsa sat down for dinner the three monarchs looked at her sheepishly, embarrassed about their brothers poor behavior.

“You'll have to excuse Ed, he doesn't take to new people well.” 

“Clearly. He better be glad he isn't around other children.” Elsa remembered how public schooling used to be for her after Suzanne wasn't there, and she didn't want anything to do with it anymore. 

“Oh, public school was a nightmare for Ed.” Elsa's shocked look told them that she had no idea where they were from. 

“I knew you had a strange accent. Where are you four from? Certainly not here?” 

A strange, palpable silence followed and Elsa felt fear creep into her limbs. 

“That is true. We aren't from Narnia.” Peter said slowly. 

“You sound English?” Elsa breathed in, she knew what this meant for her and her time here. 

“Finchley, England.” Susan said in an almost whisper. “It's been so long since we have been home. I haven't seen mother in so long. Lucy thinks that time doesn't pass while we are here. That when we go back, nothing will have changed.” 

Elsa felt sick. Every part of her trembled as she got up from the table. “Excuse me.” She panted and retraced her steps out of the dining hall. After taking many turns, she found the sweet salt air and she sank to her haunches below the window, feeling the sick sensation creep all over her. If no time passed while she was here, she would go back to the tiny holding cell, and disappear from society forever. 

That couldn't happen, but maybe it already had. Maybe she really was dreaming, none of this was real. 

“Elsa?” Voices at the far end of the hall beckoned her and she made no move to make herself known. 

“Elsa, are you okay?” It was Peter, and his footsteps were hurried as they came closer to her. He had found her and in an instant was knelt down beside her. His hands wrapped around her shoulders. 

“I, I..” Elsa didn't know how to put it into words. 

“It's okay, if you don't want to talk about it.”

“No.” She said a little more forcefully. “You need to know.” Elsa bit her lip and rubbed her arms. “My home country was invaded under the guise of a peaceful union. Since then, nothing has been the same. I was captured in the forest by the Gestapo and taken to a holding cell on the other side of the city. I don't know what they planned to do with me. When I woke up, I was here. I can't go back to that.” Tears were freely slipping down her face as she clung to Peter's front. 

“The Gestapo, are you German?” 

“Nein! I am Austrian, never German, though I look like one.” 

“I'm sorry. I truly had no idea.” Peter rubbed small circles into her back as he rocked her gently. 

“I would appreciate if you wouldn't say anything to the others. I wouldn't want cause for strife in your family.” 

“That isn't our war. It never was. But, still, I won't say anything to them. It's your story to tell.” Elsa could hear the sincerity in his voice. 

“Thank you, for listening.” Elsa hugged Peter gently. Perhaps this was where she belonged, and when it was time for her to go back, she would deal with it.


	3. Chapter 3

The weeks passed at Cair Paravel and slowly, but surely Elsa had committed to memory the layout of the majority of the castle. She had found that the castle was indeed expansive, but with simple memory tricks, she had only gotten lost a few times. The staff was always more than willing to help the blind young woman out. Often, she held conversations with the staff and she had found that for most of them, it was a labor of love, rather than a job. The Pevensie monarchs were loved by all, and in turn they loved everyone else. 

This seemed to hold true for everyone, except for the broody younger brother who spent most of his time in the library, or in the sparring arena. Edmund still harbored guilt over his initial trip and subsequent betrayal of his siblings and he worked tirelessly to improve his swordsmanship and knowledge of his country. 

It was a sunny afternoon when she had stumbled upon the library in the west wing. The smell of parchment, ink and ivory wafted in the air and she let her fingers trail across the spines and the scrolls along the walls until she heard the sound of a throat being cleared. 

“What are you doing here?” The voice placed an unusual emphasis on the you and Elsa turned her ears to the sound of the now familiar voice. 

“I think I may have gotten lost.” Elsa replied truthfully. 

“Well, there is nothing for you here.” Edmund said simply, but the meaning behind the words was more than clear to her. He didn't want her intruding on his space. 

Even though she knew what he meant, asking may prove useful. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” She shot a displeased look in the direction of his voice and she was rewarded with a sigh, and the shuffle of footsteps. 

“I wish to apologize for my abhorrent behavior. It was rather unbecoming.” 

Elsa flinched at his formal tone and she worried her lip, but answered all the same. “I understand. It isn't easy to get along with someone who is so unlike you.” 

“Why do you have to be so gentle with everyone? You are never angry, you are almost never upset. Do you feel anything?” She could tell he wasn't trying to hurt her, but his words had cut deeper than she expected. 

“Crying over spilled milk never solved anything.” Her tone was cool and she wanted more than anything to escape. 

“It's obviously not just spilled milk. Something much larger happened, and for some bizarre reason you can't seem to talk to anyone about it. Why?” Edmund's face was so close to her own and it felt like he was nearly shouting.

“Why do you feel like you need to know everything about everyone, Edmund?” Her voice rose in octaves and her gaze was settled around the sound of his voice. 

“Because you are a mystery to everyone. You harbor some sort of guilt over something that happened a long time ago, and you can't let it go.” Edmund, a year younger than her seemed wiser than his years and she felt the pent up emotion start to surface. 

“You have no idea what you are talking about.” Her voice was harsh as a lump formed in her throat and before her traitorous emotions could turn on her, she spun on her heel and fled the library in the west wing. 

Cursing in German, she stopped in an empty hallway and breathed deeply. Even though she didn't ever want to admit it, she knew that Edmund was right. 

“What's done is done, Edelweiss. You couldn't have known.” Her mother's voice, thick with emotion washed over her younger daughter. Elsa was glad to know that her mother didn't blame her, but all the well wishes and wise words in the world couldn't erase the absolute guilt that ate at her empty heart. 

“Mutter, we should have been home, we never should have stopped at that window.” Elsa's sightless eyes leaked salty tears and she felt her mother's arms wrap around her shaking shoulders. 

“You girls were never good at coming home on time.” Joan's voice was wistful as she thought of happier times. 

Elsa knew it was because of her disobedience that they were taking home an urn, instead of her sister. She had never before in her life felt more betrayed, or more alone because of herself.

Elsa snapped herself out of her reverie and mentally shook her head. Her mother's advice was true, and there was nothing she could do now about her foolishness that day. Gathering her skirts, she headed towards the gardens that overlooked the arena. Some time outside in the Narnian sunlight would do her good. 

Peter wiped the sweat from his brow as his sword clanged violently against his sparring partner. Advance, parry, riposte recover, the rhythm of battle was nearly ingrained into him and by the time his partner's sword fell to his feet, he stopped, and braced his hands on his knees. 

“Great match, Natick” Peter hadn't realized how beat he was until they had stopped and his breath came in short gasps. 

“Another round, your majesty?” Natick's accented voice sounded weary, but his hand rested on the hilt of his sword all the same. 

Peter shook his head and coughed. “I haven't got another round in me,” he said laughing as they exited the arena into the gardens. Glancing around, the lush gardens were empty, until his eyes caught wisps of curly blonde hair glistening in the afternoon sun. Stopping, he noticed she was deep in thought and her striking gray eyes were fixed dead ahead of her. 

“It's not polite to stare.” She suddenly spoke, and her eyes drifted somewhere above his left shoulder. 

“How-”

“You smell like the aft end of a camel, Peter. I could smell you coming from the arena.” A smile cracked her features and Peter blushed slightly. 

“I probably do smell, I've been at it all day.” Peter strode over to the fountains edge, where she was sitting and splashed some of the water on his face, accidentally hitting her forearm with the cool water. 

“Hey!” Elsa shrieked. “Be more careful.” Her tone sounded angry, and Peter thought she might have been genuinely sore at him, until her hand slipped into the water and sent a huge wave towards his bowed head. 

“Oh, so it's like that?” He heard her giggle as he splashed more water onto her pale skin. The sunlight glinted off her beaded porcelain skin and a grin broke out on Peter's face before he wrapped his arms around her middle and tackled the young woman into the fountain.

Sputtering and wiping her damp curls out of her face, she whirled around in the fountain, gaining her bearings. 

“What was that for?” She laughed and found that his hands had snaked around her waist and she inched closer to the monarch. 

“I need a reason?” Peter's face inched closer to hers until their noses nudged together. Smiling, he wiped a strand of hair from her face and his hand lingered around her temples. Her cool skin flushed under his touch and he caressed her face. 

“Not at all” she said in a quiet voice, and if Peter hadn't been paying attention, he may not have even heard it.

It lasted only a moment as his lips brushed against hers. The feeling was like a soft breeze across her face as his skin tickled hers. 

“We shouldn't do this,” she whispered softly. 

“Why?” His question was more of a dare and she sensed the muted desire in his voice. 

“Because-” Elsa stopped. She didn't have a reason, not a good one, anyway. 

Peter noted her lips were slowly turning a bluish hue and he lifted her out of the fountain. “You look freezing.” Peter's simple statement brought her shivering skin and chattering teeth to realization and she rubbed her arms in an attempt to chase the chill. In moments, she felt Peter's arm wrap around her shoulder. 

“Come on,” he murmured, leading her back into the castle. Upon a second glance behind his back, Peter noted Rhindon was still sitting by the fountain and he made a mental note to send someone after it later. 

When they stopped at her door, he faced her with a sheepish grin. “I'm sorry I got you all wet.” 

A strange look crossed her face as she cocked an eyebrow up. “Somehow, I doubt that,” but the same sarcastic smile crossed her face and Peter mentally sighed in relief. 

“So, I'll see you at dinner then?” 

Elsa smiled and rubbed his arm before turning to open her door. “I suppose you will, Where else would I have dinner?”

“You are insufferable.” 

At this, Elsa turned and tossed a cheeky grin over her shoulder. “I know.” 

Closing the door behind her and waiting until she was sure Peter was out of range, she let out a whimsical sigh. 

“Miss Elsa, why are you all wet?” She felt the fussing hands of Drin pull her towards the fire. 

“Ah, I slipped into one of the fountains in the gardens.” Elsa's cheeks flamed scarlet and she heard the familiar sound of Drin's chuckling fill the room. 

“Would that also be why there is a second puddle outside your rooms?” Elsa could hear the smile in her voice and she lowered her eyes to the floor. 

“Possibly.” A sly smile spread on Elsa's face and she felt the flame of embarrassment spread across her cheeks as she ran a hand through her hair. 

Drin said no more as she rummaged around in the vast closet for another set of clothing for Elsa. 

“Ah, this one will suit you quite nicely.” The handmaiden murmured as Elsa heard the rustling of skirts. 

Elsa sighed as Drin ushered her over to the dressing screen and began stripping her wet linen skirts off. 

“And what horrific color are you dressing me in now?” Elsa's voice was one of jest, but she had the feeling that her handmaiden felt slightly insulted.

“Not horrific, Elsa. It's a dusty rose color. It will bring out your complexion rather nicely.” The elven woman's hands loped around the arc of Elsa's back as she tightened the corset around her chest. Letting out a gasp as the final cord was pulled, she brought a slender hand up to her chest. 

“Too tight?” 

Elsa shook her head, breathing normally again. “No, this will just take some getting used to.”

“You didn't wear these, where you come from?” Elsa hadn't told Drin of her origins, and she could sense that her elven friend was curious. 

“They aren't commonplace there anymore.” Elsa stated the fact with unknown clouding her voice. 

“How improper.” The words flew out of Drin's mouth faster than she could think and she buried her face in the dress laces, hoping that Elsa hadn't heard it. 

“Things change, with time.” Elsa could remember Suzanne's first bad hair cut. The barber had gotten it all wrong and ended up shearing off more than six inches of her beloved raven colored hair. Her older twin cried over it senselessly for the remainder of that cloudy afternoon. 

“Don't be vain Suzanne, it will grow back sweetie.” The soothing words of her father did nothing to console the nine year old as she raked shaking hands through her significantly shorter hair.

The memories of her childhood had come more and more since she had stepped into this land and she could only wonder at why this was. 

“Lost in thought, miss?” Drin led the young woman towards the chair by the fireplace and began to pull a comb through her slightly ratted curls. 

“I suppose.” She set her face in it's usual down turned manner and schooled the wistful look from her face.

“As you say.” The tone of Drin's voice conveyed doubt, but nothing more was said on the manner. 

Some time later, she heard a sigh of satisfaction and a clasp of hands.

“Ah, that will do it.” 

“Really, it's just dinner, Drin, nothing to fret over.” 

“Miss, dinner here is nothing to be taken lightly. You should see how everyone else dresses for dinner.” 

And until then, it never occurred to her what everyone else had looked like. Sure, she had felt Peter's strong biceps, Susan's wavy curls and Lucy's dimples, but they all had holes. She could only see o much. But she did feel the fabric of Peter's tunic when he came to escort her downstairs. The fabric was of fine construction and the small stitching lines showed that great care was taken in making the piece of clothing. 

“I had never thought about it before.” Elsa cocked her head to the side and stood to her feet, slipping her shoes on. 

“Don't think too much on it, you look lovely.” The motherly tone that seeped into her voice didn't go unnoticed and Elsa managed a grateful smile before exiting her rooms. 

A few turns and half a flight of stairs later, Elsa found herself standing on the landing that separated the dining hall from the living quarters and she felt a hand on her arm. Instead of it being Peter's experienced, callous hand a soft, yet throughly male touch lighted on her arm. 

“Edmund?” 

“Truly, I am sorry. You didn't deserve what I said. It's your business, whatever happened. And should you decide to share it with me, I would be honored.” 

“I, thank you, Edmund.” The sincere apology came as a surprise to Elsa and she found little to say at the moment. 

“Now, may I escort you to dinner?” 

Elsa knew how to get to the dining hall, but the now budding friendship between herself and Edmund led her to place her hand in the crock of his arm. 

“Yes, you may.” 

As the pair neared the dining hall, Elsa heard unrecognizable voices flooding the area. 

“Who's here?” 

“Dignitaries from the Lone Islands. There is some sort of event coming up,” came the whispered voice of Edmund. 

Chasing her nervousness away, she held her head high and marched into the dining room, her face a mask of apathy. 

“Well, it sounds like all we need is an orchestra!” Gregior sounded excited at the prospect of another gathering at the castle by the sea and Peter looked on in utter boredom. 

“It looks that way.” The days activities had worn the young monarch smooth and he felt ready to drop, but dinner hadn't even started yet. As his blue eyes roamed the table, only two people were missing, and he suspected by the footsteps in the hall beyond that they wouldn't be missing for very long. Taking a sip from his goblet, he nearly choked as Elsa's slender frame waltzed into the room, on the arm of his brother. His brother of all people, politely led Elsa into the room and as Peter tried to analyze the situation, he found it to be utterly impossible. Both parties held an unyielding mask of apathy as they sat at the table. 

What he found unnerving was that instead of sitting with the girls, or next to him, Edmund had placed her between Gregior, and himself. Peter felt worlds away from her, instead of only a few seats away. Trying not to glare, he looked around the familiar dining hall.

Weird as the situation was, Peter found his eyes straying back to Elsa. Her platinum blonde curls were pinned to the back of her head in a slightly unkempt but none the less pretty bun and the dusty rose color of her gown highlighted the ivory of her skin tone. Beautiful as the rest of her was, her striking nearly white eyes caught his own blue orbs and he swore for a minute that she saw him staring. 

Looking around the table, Susan wore a bemused look on her seasoned face and Lucy, aloof as ever was staring at Gregior's wizened brow in utter wonder. Gregior's wife Amele wore a confused look on her weathered face. At last, his gaze settled on his younger brother, who instead of the smug, self appreciating look he usually wore, Ed's face had relaxed and he looked genuinely happy. 

What had happened in the short amount of time that they were separated that her and Edmund had suddenly become friends? His train of thought was quickly interrupted when Gregior had begun to speak again.

“And you must be the most enigmatic Elsa whom I have heard so much about.”

Elsa smiled, smarm leaking into her voice. “Well, you mustn't believe half of what you hear.”

Gregior laughed and turned to Peter, his eyes full of mirth. “Peter, she is charming! You must introduce her at the midsummer festival.”

Elsa nearly choked on her food and she turned to Peter, slightly miffed that no one had said anything to her before this. 

“I'm sorry, the midsummer festival?”

“Oh it's the most wonderful time of year, save for Christmas. Narnians from far and wide come to the castle grounds to celebrate the beauty of life. There is a tournament, and lots of good food, and music. And at the end, there is a grand ball!” Lucy's excited voice washed over the table and Elsa silently took in all of the information. 

It was vastly different from the way she celebrated it with her family in Austria. “That doesn't sound anything like a midsummer festival.” 

“You think you do it better?” Peter teased, and Elsa was once again, sent down memory lane. 

“Oh yes, we do it best. Every midsummer, we go to the Wachau valley, and just when the sun sinks under the hills and night has taken over, a procession of ships flow down the river. They are all decorated and the crew is so proud. You can see bonfires lit in the vineyards and the hills. Fireworks are shot out of the castle ruins surrounding the river, and the light is so bright, you can see the countryside for miles in any direction. The whole country shows up, and for one evening, we forget about what separates us, and everything just feels right.” 

“It sounds lovely, Elsa.” 

“It does, but give ours a chance, you may like it too.” Amele smiled 

“Even if you don't we will need your help preparing,” Peter pointed out as the waiters padded into the room with the dinner service.

“Well then, Susan we have plenty of work ahead of us to prepare.” A graceful smile fit her features as a simmering plate of meat, potatoes and vegetables was set before her.

“Indeed we do,” Susan murmured in agreement. 

The rest of dinner passed in awkward silence and Elsa was only too glad to escape the table as she stood up. 

“It is getting quite late, I must be off.” Elsa nodded in the direction of Susan and Lucy. 

“We understand, love. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Elsa could hear the smile in Amele's unusual alto voice.

As Elsa made her way down the hall, the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching her confused her slightly. Only until she smelled the unique scent of sandalwood did she identify who it was. Slowing to a stop, she soon felt Peter's familiar hand wrap around her forearm. 

“Something wrong, Peter?” Peter's arms coiled around her and she smiled, her hands coming up to play with his hair. 

“No, it's okay now.” She heard the smile in his voice and she chuckled. “I never got the chance to tell you how ravishing you look tonight, Elsa.” 

She responded with a surprised hum. “You came all this way to tell me I look nice?” 

Elsa missed the deadpan look on Peter's face. “I came to ask you something else, but for the life of me, I can't remember.

Elsa smiled, her fingers tangled in his soft locks. 

“Peter, what color is your hair?” 

Peter smiled before correcting her just slightly off stare. “Sandy blonde, I believe is the color.”

Her head cocked sideways as her fingers retracted from his hair. With her heart pounding in her throat, she let her fingers sweep over his brow slowly. Part of her waited for Peter to recoil, shocked or disgusted, but he stayed still. As her fingers traveled south and found his nose she found herself chuckling. 

“Peter, have you ever broken your nose?” 

Peter's response about a fight at school was muffled through her fingers. As her hands dropped down to his shoulders, trailing along the column of his throat, a smile fixed itself on her features. 

“Lovely, Peter.” 

Peter wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “No more lovely than you.” 

Embarrassment flamed in her cheeks and her head lowered slightly. 

Remembering what he initially wanted to ask her, he pulled back to make eye contact. “Elsa, what did Edmund say to you?” 

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“You were fighting, now you come to dinner on his arm. It was a tad bit odd.”

“Strangely enough, he apologized.” It came out of her mouth with slight hesitation, like she questioned it herself. 

The pair started again down the hall, arm in arm. “That is rather odd.” 

“Peter,” she started, a hint of uncertainty coloring her usually sure voice. “What is the midsummer festival really like?” 

Peter thought about it for a moment as they strolled slowly down the marble halls towards the monarchs private apartments. Thinking of how to equivocate it to something she might understand, he chuckled instead, bringing her to a stop in front of her door. 

“Like nothing you have ever experienced before.”

She hummed again, her hand coming to rest on the heavy oak door. “I'll give it a shot,” she decided. 

Peter laughed, “That's good.” Peter's hand came to rest on her jawline, tenderly stroking it with his fingertips. He felt elated as she leaned into his touch, and just like he had earlier in the afternoon, he brought his lips down on hers gently. 

After the initial gasp of shock, Elsa kissed him back, her hands winding around his neck. Separating from her, he nuzzled her nose, feeling her sweet breath on his face. 

“Elsa, I like you. A lot.” 

“Mm, Peter I had hardly noticed.” The sarcastic tone was back, and Peter bit back a laugh. 

“I want to do this the right way,” 

“There is a wrong way?” Elsa chuckled, waiting for him to finish. 

“I could scare you off, but I'm trying not to.” 

Elsa smiled, her eyes fixed straight on him. “Peter I would encourage you to try to scare me off.” 

“You brave woman,” Peter muttered, crashing his lips against hers again. 

Elsa lost herself in Peter's lips and felt elated, even after his soft lips separated from hers. 

“If I don't leave now, I never will.”

“Narnia's king needs to be rested up,” Elsa teased, letting her hand run down his arm. 

“As does it's beautiful ladies.” Peter caught her hand in his and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Goodnight, Elsa.” 

Elsa offered him a smile, “Goodnight, Peter.” 

Elsa closed the door behind her with a sigh of satisfaction. It wasn't love, not yet. But all the same, the butterflies in her stomach didn't let up, even as she laid in bed, waiting for sleep to claim her.


	4. Chapter 4

Elsa found herself in the ballroom on a rainy afternoon. The expanse of the marble floor felt cool underneath her now bare feet and she felt at first, self conscious as she recalled to the forefront of her mind the dance steps that had been ingrained in her as a child. The steps of the Landler flowed through her like fluid and she could almost hear the swell of a full orchestra around her. Almost as smooth as the dance steps came from her feet, the memories danced around her, filling her blind eyes. 

“And then you tuck under, and spin.” Elsa watched from the fringes as her twin danced the folk dance with their father. It was moments like this, that she knew she would never have with her father. The fact that they were twins did not mean that Kurt loved Elsa and Suzanne the same. 

Kurt and his eldest daughter, Suzanne shared a special relationship, unbreakable by any means. It showed as they danced in the backyard, unaware of anything going on except themselves, and the blanket of stars above them. 

Fatherly love shone from Kurt's eyes as mirth exuded from his face. “It will take some practice.” He advised as her feet became twisted up underneath her. 

“Some luck we are having with these ballet classes, huh father?” 

“Suzanne, my dear it will take some time. You may be a bud now, but you will blossom into a beautiful flower someday.” Elsa didn't miss the way his hand lighted on her chin as the smile lines beside his eyes crinkled. 

Footsteps, and a surprised gasp pulled her from her memories and she stopped in the middle of the dance floor, a scarlet blush blooming in her cheeks. 

“Elsa dear,” came the amused, bell like voice of Susan. “You didn't tell us you could dance.”

Elsa stretched her leg up in the air and smiled. “You didn't ask.” 

Susan laughed and came to stand in front of her. “You must teach us, I'm afraid we all look dreadful on the dance floor.” 

“Oh, Susan.” Elsa scratched the back of her head as her foot came back down to the ground slowly. “I'm not sure If I can.” 

“You must, please. I can go get the others.” 

After a minute of thinking, Elsa consented. 

“Oh, you are wonderful, Elsa!” Susan excitedly hugged her and practically ran out of the room. 

Grim thoughts took over her head as she continued to stretch in the middle of the floor. Minutes later, four sets of footsteps came into the room, clamoring to themselves about dancing. 

“I hate dancing,” Peter murmured, coming to stand in front of Elsa. 

“How will it look to the country if their king can't dance?” A satisfied smirk danced on Elsa's features as she instructed the Pevensie children to line up. 

Nervousness pricked at her as she sucked in a breath. 

“Shoes off, everyone.” 

“But Ed's feet stink,” Lucy complained. 

“Would you rather him step on your toes with his shoes on, Luce?” Elsa smiled, waiting the young girls response. 

“I suppose not,” The four monarchs took their shoes off, and lined up next to each other, in their stockings. 

“Now,” Elsa started, beginning to stretch. “Before you dance you must stretch.” She heard mild grunting coming from her pupils and she came to each of them, starting with Lucy. 

“Lucy, darling like this,” Elsa adjusted her stance and guided her through the proper way to stretch. Much sooner than was comfortable, her hands found Peter's built form and she blushed as she adjusted him. 

“Peter, darling,” she started in a low voice. “Just watch me, I know that isn't hard for you.” 

In a surprise move, Peter wound an arm around her waist, and captured her hand with his other hand and spun her around the dance floor. 

“Peter love, this is a bit fast.” 

“Come off it, I know you can keep up.” 

The motions came back to her as they eased into a foxtrot. 

“You didn't tell me you could dance.” Her voice was laced with slight confusion as she danced closer to him. 

“You never asked.” He said, repeating her words from before. 

The dance ended with a low, sumptuous dip and Elsa wound an arm around his neck, and a leg around his midsection. 

“Oh!” Lucy clapped and jumped up and down. “I would love to dance like that!” 

“Calm down, Lucy,” Peter pulled Elsa out of the low dip and she spun out for a moment. “You must learn to walk first, then you will dance.” 

Setting them in pairs and instructing them, she sat on the fringes of the room, listening to the sounds of their feet. 

“Ed, pick up your feet when you dance, don't shuffle.” 

Edmund didn't bother asking how she knew what he was doing anymore, he simply complied with her. 

Elsa stood and walked to the edge of the ballroom, hailing a servant. 

“I don't suppose you could secure a violin for me?” 

“Yes, of course Miss Elsa.” Elsa frowned at the woman's formality but said nothing as she scurried out of the room. Minutes later, she found the familiar wooden instrument and bow pressed into her hands. 

Nodding her thanks, she returned to the center of the room, plucking at the strings to check the tuning. Being sure of the instruments capabilities, she started with a slow rhythm that escalated into an easy going melody, quickly changing into the tune of the Laendlaer. 

“Kurt, isn't this a little much?” 

“Nonsense!” Kurt's voice boomed in the music shop. “My girls will be the pride of Salzburg.” 

Joan shook her head in disbelief as she watched Elsa finger the violin's soft wood. 

“We will show them, nothing has changed because of the Anschluss. Austria is still Austria.” 

“Right you are, sir!” The shopkeeper grinned, adjusting his yarmulke. 

After a couple of minutes, she noted they had stopped dancing and were instead listening, and watching her. Elsa hadn't noticed how emotional she had become until she lowered the violin from her chin and sank to the floor. 

The instrument forgotten beside her, sobs began to eat at her and she wrapped her arms around herself. 

“I think we are done for the day,” Susan started, escorting out her younger siblings. 

Peter knelt down beside her, rubbing small circles into her back like he had the first time. “Too much reminiscing today?”

Elsa nodded, attempting to pull herself together. “I can't stop thinking about her.” 

“About who?” 

Her name tumbled from her lips and her tears started fresh. “My sister, Suzanne.” 

“What happened, love?” 

“It was rainy the day that I lost my sister, and my sight. We were always competing, and we could never get enough of it.” A sad smile decorated her features as she continued. 

“One day, we tried to race from one end of the city to the other. I remember stopping at a dressmakers shop and peeking in through the window.” The lump in Elsa's throat grew and she found it hard to breathe. 

“Suzanne, stop.” Elsa's legs came to a halt in front of Madamme Gierry's shop and she gawked at the lovely cocktail gown on display in the window. 

“Oh, Elsa.” Suzanne was enraptured with the gown and she opened the door to look inside. 

“We need to get home,” Elsa reached for Suzanne, who smiled. 

“Just a quick peek, then we can go.” 

“There was a lovely red dress in the window and Suzanne wanted to go inside. I watched from outside as an SS officer behind the counter was trashing the store, and when he saw Suzanne, he shot. I couldn't move. I knew I should have ran, but I stayed there, and watched her die.” Her voice broke as her shoulders shook, heaving with sobs. 

Elsa watched as the SS officer in the green uniform pocket the tiny gun and her eyes shifted from that of her dead twin, to the dead eyes of her murderer. She couldn't move. She knew she had to go find help, but her muscles wouldn't move. The sound couldn't come out of her mouth, instead it was just open in a hollow, silent scream. 

“I saw his eyes as he turned to find me in the window. I suppose he expected me to run, or to scream. Instead I just stood there, shocked. I watched Suzanne bleed out on the floor, and I was rooted to the sidewalk outside. I watched him raise his pistol, and pull the trigger. The bullet shattered the glass in front of me, and destroyed my eyes.” 

Peter listened with rapt attention and as her voice wavered and tapered off, he took the young Austrian woman into his arms. 

“Nothing reminded me more of Suzanne than that first day here. The flower Lions foot, in Austria we call it Edelweiss.” She regaled her with the story about her and Suzanne's secret glen in the woods, how they would knit together chains of Edelweiss and wrap themselves with it. 

“It is the same as if I had pulled the trigger myself.” Her broken voice couldn't find the strength to go on and she said nothing more. 

Peter furrowed his brow, but pulled her closer. “You don't have to continue,” he said as Elsa found it impossible to relay any more. 

Elsa felt broken as she mourned the loss of her other half in Peter's arms. After a while, her sobs subsided and her hand wound around Peter's neck. 

“Please, let this stay between us.” 

“Hey,” he grabbed her attention and lowered his lips down to her ear. “It isn't your fault. You will see her again.” 

“I know,” And as Peter continued to hold her in his arms, Elsa believed him wholeheartedly.


	5. Chapter 5

The day of the midsummer festival was here. For many days, Narnians had been pouring into the castle, hanging banners, preparing menu's polishing floors and testing the wines. The palace had become a flurry of activity and with each passing day, Elsa tensed more and more at the new people. 

The morning spent in the gardens, locked in silent meditation did little to quell Elsa's nerves. She had found a quiet little alcove, beyond the hum of the fountains and she relished the time she had found for herself. Just inside her range of perception, she heard faint footsteps approaching her. The spice, and the salt alerted her to Amele, the dignitary from the Lone Islands. Along with her husband, they were the first to arrive for preparations for the summer holiday. 

Pasting a polite smile on, Elsa stood up to greet the elderly woman. “Amele, how did you find me?” 

“My dear girl,” Amele started, winding an arm around her waist in a motherly fashion. “You seek seclusion so often, do you fear new people?” 

“Perhaps I do. When I was little, such opportunities rarely presented themselves. Besides, it's so lovely out here.” 

Amele chuckled as they strolled through the gardens, towards the fountains. “And now, you can't seem to get enough of it.” 

“Yes, it would appear so. It's more that I feel a bother sometimes here.” 

“Elsa, if you were ever a bother here, someone would have said something by now.”

“I know, it's irrational to entertain such thoughts.” 

“You have a purpose here. Don't underestimate yourself.”

“You believe that?”

Amele chuckled. “You would not have been brought here otherwise, dear one.” 

Elsa picked up on the wording, her memories stirring up the memories of the low, warm voice.

“How are you so sure?” 

“Rumors around the castle have it that you aren't even from Narnia at all. You come from the land of Spare Oom, with the kings and queens.”

“Do you really trust the rumor mill?” A smile lighted Elsa's face and she laughed. 

“And yet, rumor also has it that there is someone, who cant seem to take their eyes off you.” Elsa smiled as a blush crept up her cheeks, but didn't say anything to confirm this. Amele stopped, taking Elsa's hands in her own. “He is a king, don't expect this relationship to be easy. He is coming of age that he must take a bride.” Amele smiled and moved a piece of blonde hair away from Elsa's face. “But I can see, he loves you so.” 

“Perhaps it is just a passing thing.” Elsa worried her lip. 

Amele smiled, pulling Elsa in for a hug. “He does love you. Take your time with this, and above all, trust him.” 

Elsa, grateful for the advice hugged Amele in return. “Thank you, for your kind words.” 

Amele chuckled again as they started towards the castle. “You remind me of myself, every time I look at you. So young, and for the love of a man in power, you seem reluctant to accept it. Don't fight what you feel, let it come.”

Changing the subject, Elsa cleared her throat. “Will you and Gregior be leaving after the festivals conclusion?” 

“We will be back before you know it. We never miss out on celebrations here.” Elsa's feet hit the marble flooring inside the castle and she winced at the cacophony of noise, coming from the orchestra. 

“Oh my, I hope they sound better before tonight.” Elsa grimaced at the sour sounding notes and the women retreated towards the apartments, away from the noise of the festival preparations. 

“Well, my dear it is time for us to ready ourselves for the day.” 

Elsa nodded. Today would be full of many things new and exciting. There would be fencing, feasting, and merriment. She knew that Peter and Edmund had entered the tournament, along with the captain of the guard and Oreius had even come to the castle to compete. 

“Ah, very well. I will catch up with you later then.” Elsa nodded politely to Amele and retreated into her rooms. 

The scent of roses and myrrh greeted her as she stepped into the main room. 

“Oh, miss!” The shocked voice of her elven maid, Drin reached her ears and Elsa smiled softly. “I wasn't expecting you for some time. I haven't quite gotten your bath drawn.”

Elsa laughed, a rich alto tone emitting from her throat. “It's quite alright, Drin.” She could tell that the use of her nickname had soothed the elven woman of some sort of transgression. Walking over to the dressing screen, Elsa shed the outer layers of the linen dress she had put on for the morning. Her thoughts had strayed for a moment to the conversation she had with Amele in the gardens, and sooner than she expected, she heard the pump shut off. 

Hissing as her now bare feet hit the cold marble, she was only too grateful to sink into the scalding bath. The feel of Drin's arching fingers working their way through her waterlogged blonde curls was therapeutic to her and she found herself dozing lightly. 

“Today is sure to be exciting, miss. Griffins have been arriving in nonstop today.” 

Elsa groaned and let her head sink in farther under the scented foam. Drin gave a long suffering sigh and a smile. “Aah, don't tell me. I remember.” 

“It wont be so bad,” Drin continued, “Just give it a chance, Elsa. If you hate it, no one will notice if you slip out the back.” Drin began to work the shampoo into her hair and she let the rhythmic rubbing of her hands ease away the tension. 

“I hope so.” 

Some time later found Elsa gripping her cherry wood bedpost as Drinian pulled the cords on her corset one final time and tied them securely behind her back. 

“That should do it.” Drin released her from the bedpost and she walked over to the dressing screen and slipped on the ballgown that was draped over the top. 

“This one is blue, like the sky.” Elsa let the color float in front of her minds eye as her hands smoothed the satin below them. 

Suddenly, a knock at the door came to her ears and she cleared her throat. “Come in.” 

Two pairs of footsteps came into the room and she immediately recognized them as the Pevensie sisters. 

“You aren't ready yet, Elsa. They are nearly ready to start.” 

Letting out a soft curse, her hands strayed to the back of her gown and struggled to find the clasps. 

“Here,” Susan's hand landed on her slender forearm and in a moment, the clasps were all done. 

“My lady, if that will be all,” Drin trailed off and Elsa had nearly forgotten about her presence still. 

“Go, ready yourself Drin. Thank you for your help.” Elsa felt Lucy pulling her towards a chair and she submitted herself to the girls. 

“Do what you will, I can't stop you.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Susan laughed as she pulled Elsa's hair back and secured it with a silver jeweled clip. 

“I trust you. I also trust you will not let me leave this room looking like Godzilla.” 

The girls were momentarily stunned by the film reference from their own world and the gears inside Elsa's head began to turn. Slowly, memories had begun to slip, would she lose them completely as the years rolled by here? She grasped for the happy ones, and they were slipping through her hands like sand through a sieve. She could remember the larger things, the name of her city, the current state of affairs when she had left. The smaller things, the Austrian lullaby her mother would hum under her breath as she did the washing up, the smell of her fathers tobacco, had begun to wash away from her memory. 

Feeling suddenly distressed, she raised a hand to her temples, panic gripping her. 

“Do you girls realize what is happening here?” 

Elsa stood and faced Susan, her gaze slightly off center of the brunette. 

“What are you on about?”

“Things are slipping from my memory. The longer we are here, the more we forget.” 

“Forget what?” 

“Lucy!” Elsa whirled towards the now blossoming young girl. “Where were you born?” 

Lucy trembled underneath Elsa's gripping hands on her shoulders. “I, I cant remember.” 

The gasp from behind her alerted Elsa to the realization that was made. “You're right.” 

Elsa nodded, taking the girls hands in hers. “No matter what, we can't forget where we are from. We might not be here forever.” 

Susan took a moment to consider this. “You're right,” She finally said, her head lowering. 

“We have to do something about this.” Lucy tugged at Elsa's hand and she worried her lip. 

“We do, but now is not the time. For now, let the festivities begin.” Susan smiled and let Lucy run ahead of her as Elsa tugged her slippers on at the door. 

“During the tournament, you'll sit with us in the Queen's box.” 

The trio walked into the hallway and as they made their way towards the gardens, Elsa heard the distant sound of trumpets. 

“The boys must be entering the arena now.” Susan's whispered voice hit Elsa's ears and her brow furrowed for a moment. Trumpets meant a procession of some sort. 

“What have you gotten me into?” Elsa hissed into Susan's ear and she pulled the blind young woman closer to her. 

“Be calm and it will be just fine. If nothing else, enjoy the weather. I hear it is very fair outside today.” 

“Very well.” Elsa felt the sunshine hit her before she set foot outside and the deafening noise of trumpets hit her from all sides. Shrinking from the noise, her grip on Susan's arm intensified. 

The walk through the gardens to the Arena seemed to take forever, and when she was finally inside the tented area, she exhaled and let Lucy lead her to her seat, right off Susan's right. Around her, the sound of excitement roared until all came silent. 

“Narnians from far and wide! It is a joyous occasion. We bid you welcome to castle Cair Paravel.” The strong voice emanating from the center of the arena was foreign to Elsa. “Today heralds another glorious summer and among the company of friends, let there be some healthy competition.” A deafening roar came again from the stands and dwindled down after a few moments. 

“Without further pomp and circumstance, let the festivities begin!” 

Elsa listened through the dim as the faint sound of footsteps reached her ears. Two sets of footsteps, one very familiar, and one foreign came to the center and the announcer began. 

“It is my pleasure to announce the first competitors. General Oreius, against someone quite near and dear to you all. I present to you, your high king, and reigning champion.” 

The sound of steel grinding against itself met her ears in an unpleasant clash. 

“Gentlemen, have you a fair maiden to fight for?” 

Oreius spoke first. “I will fight for the gentle queen Susan.” Elsa grinned, giving Susan's hand a squeeze. 

“And you, my king?” 

Below the spectators, Peter looked above, towards the queens box. “The lady Elsa Markham.” 

Elsa paled, her blind eyes settling on the arena before her. Beside her, Lucy gasped and Susan had laughed silently. Deciding on the diplomatic thing to do, Elsa smiled, bowing her head slightly. 

“Susan what just happened?” 

“Peter is fighting for you.” Susan answered it like it was the most natural thing. 

“What does that mean?” She whispered, as the king, and the centaur began to duel. 

“He has made his intentions for you known.” 

Elsa thought about it for a moment before turning to Susan, a grin spreading on her face. “And what about you and Oreius?” 

“Shut up,” Susan muttered, sinking into her chair further. 

Elsa focused on the battle below her as the harsh clang of swords and the jeers of the spectators floated into her acute ears. Footsteps, and what sounded like hoof beats greeted her. Hooves, what on earth? What would a horse be doing anywhere near here?” 

“Susan, why do I hear hoof beats?” 

Susan smiled, turning to the girl “Oreius is a centaur. Half human, and half horse.” 

“Wouldn't he have the advantage over Peter, then?” 

“One would think that. Peter is nimble, and Oreius is strong. They are well matched together.” 

The battle raged for what seemed like epochs until a heavy handed sword was dropped, and the coliseum erupted in cheers. 

“There you have it! Your champion, my lady. King Peter!” 

Elsa let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and smiled, relieved. 

The rest of the days matches went by in a blur. Edmund, Gregior and a few other familiar people had competed and before she knew it, the sun had made a lazy arc around the ampitheatre. 

“Friends! Join us in the ballroom after a short intermission. The days festivities are not yet concluded.” 

Elsa stood, her joints creaking in protest from the sudden movement. 

“Well?” Susan took her arm and the pair strode back into the gardens at a lazy pace. 

“It was, interesting.” 

“Interesting indeed.” Susan hummed under her breath as they turned towards the royal apartments. 

“Come up to my rooms and freshen up with me, you look a little red from all that sun.” 

Elsa raised a hand up to her cheek and felt the blazing remnants of the luminaries glow on her porcelain skin. 

“I suppose so. It was rather bright out today.” 

She entered Susan's chambers and felt disoriented. All the time she had spent in the castle, she had never come here. She felt embarrassed as Lucy led her to a basin of cool water. 

Fumbling on the counter, she found a cloth and quickly submerged it into the water. After ringing out the excess moisture, she dabbed at her neck and face, cooling down the irritated skin. 

“I wish I didn't burn this easy,” Elsa muttered as she set the cloth back on the counter. Stepping back to give the others room, she felt another set of hands on her shoulders. 

“Here, I have just the thing for your skin dear.” Elven hands, but certainly not Drin's, dabbled a cream on her face before smoothing it in circular motions over her pale features. The cooling sensation was instant and she felt relieved. 

“Elin, I hadn't noticed you in here.” Susan addressed her handmaiden in an embarrassed rush. 

“I thought I might be needed here during the break. Turns out I was right.”

Susan sat at her vanity and rouged herself slightly. “I don't know what we would do without you.” 

“Thank you, milady. Miss Elsa, would you like me to do your face paint?” 

“Oh, that's not necessary, please.” 

Susan laughed, pulling her into a chair. “I'll take care of it, thank you again, Elin.” 

Elin left the room without another word, shutting the door behind her. 

“Su, don't fuss.” 

“Nonsense. You must look your best. Now don't move.” 

Several minutes passed as Susan applied the makeup in an expert manner. Her eyes were lined in kohl, and her lips had been stained a dark red that brought out the slight shimmer of her skin. 

After applying a thin layer of rouge to her cheeks, Susan smiled in approval. “What do you think, Lu?” 

“She looks beautiful.” The young girl chirped her approval and Elsa's brow furrowed. 

“What did you do?” 

Susan laughed. “You'll hardly notice anyone staring.” 

Elsa deadpanned at the joke. “That's not funny, Susan.” 

“You look fine, don't worry about it.” 

“We should be off, the boys will be wondering where we are.” 

The trio strode into the hallways, just in time to intercept Edmund and Peter. 

“There you girls are, thought you might have gotten trampled by the crowds.” Peter joked jovially and as his eyes settled on Elsa, his breath caught in his throat audibly. 

“We got out while we still could.” Susan joked to cover up the sudden silence and the five walked down the hallways. 

“There is a more formal procession when we enter the ballroom,” Susan began to explain. “Edmund and Lucy will go in first, side by side. Followed by Peter and I. You will enter in with Oreius, and he will show you where to go.” They came to the doors of the ballroom and Elsa felt a strong hand grip her shoulder. 

“You must be Elsa.” A booming voice greeted her from high above her head. Shocked, she craned her neck towards the centaur's voice. 

“Pleased to meet you, General Oreius.” 

“Peter speaks highly of your beauty. I see he was being truthful.” 

Before Elsa could manage a reply, the doors cracked open and the royals began the procession. When it was time, Oreius started slowly, warning her, before they walked down the aisle at a comfortable pace. The same announcer from the arena had announced them when they entered the vast room and she felt eyes bore themselves into her.

“You are doing well.” The whisper came almost unnoticed by the young woman and she pinned it as the ethereal, rich voice of the one she hadn't met yet. The same calmness always present with these whispers washed over her. 

They had stopped finally at the head of the room, and turned to face the rest of the room. 

“We would not be Narnians without our long heralded traditions. Now, if our tournament champion, and his lady would honor us by opening the dance floor.” 

Elsa felt the nervousness start back up again and flame in her stomach as Peter led her to the center of the room. 

The music started as Peter placed a hand on her hip, and folded his other hand over hers. The pair slipped into a slow waltz and she didn't miss it when Peter pulled her closer. 

“You look wonderful.” The husky whisper in her ear relieved her and she smiled. 

“You did well today, Peter.” 

“You doubted my skills?” Peter teased her lightly and was rewarded with a smirk. 

“How could I, when you so freely boast them?” 

“Come now, that isn't fair.” 

“Relax, and enjoy the dance, your majesty.” 

They settled into a comfortable spin around the floor and as the dance ended, the floor erupted in a symphony of clapping. 

Bowing lightly towards Peter, she was only too relieved when he escorted her towards the fringes of the room. 

“The worst is over.” 

“At last.” Elsa sighed in relief, leaning against the wall. The bustle of the room was great, and she felt stifled after a few minutes of silence. 

“My dear Elsa, would you like to join me in the gardens?” 

“You have read my mind, my king.” 

“Enough of that,” Peter groused as they walked outside. 

Elsa closed her eyes as the fresh wind gusted around her. “It's sunset, isn't it?” She said, inclining her head towards the western horizon. 

“It is, and it's beautiful. Like other things.” Peter pulled the blind young woman close, placing a kiss on her temple. 

“You wouldn't be saying what I think you're saying.” Elsa smiled, leaning in closer to him. His natural scent of sandalwood overwhelmed her senses and she found herself dazed. 

“What if I am?” Peter nudged her nose with his and watched a smile spread on her ruby stained lips. 

“What happened to doing this the right way?” 

“You are insufferable.” Peter planted his lips on hers to prevent any further protest and was surprised to hear a familiar chuckle behind him. 

“What have we here?” The pair turned towards the intrusion and Elsa placed the voice again as the very same she had heard just a while ago. 

“Aslan, We didn't expect you to come.” 

“I know Peter. Come, dear one. It's time we met properly.” 

Elsa stepped towards the voice and held a hand out, but was surprised when Peter guided her outstretched fingers downward till they hit a mass of mane. 

Jumping, she pulled her hand back as if it had been burned. “What...?” In shock she had rooted herself to the ground and to her annoyance, she heard Peter chuckling beside her. 

“Elsa, this is Aslan. He's a lion.” 

“Does every creature here talk?” 

“Peter, would you give us a moment alone?” 

To her dismay, Peter left her side immediately after laying a kiss on her cheek. 

“Come, we have much to discuss.” 

Elsa walked beside the lion further into the gardens. “I remember your voice. You were with me in that jail cell in Salzburg.” 

“Indeed I was. You have a good memory.” 

“You brought me here, to Narnia.” 

“I did.” So far, Aslan wasn't providing her with any answers. Sinking onto a bench, she let her hands rest in the monstrous mane. 

“Why?” 

“My dear, there are some things you aren't meant to know yet.” 

Elsa's brow furrowed. “What am I doing here?” 

“Living, which is more than what you would be doing, had I left you there.” 

Elsa felt shame wash over her. “I'm sorry, you're right.” 

Aslan chuckled in front of her. “The political strife in your world is unpleasant. It was not my wish to see you suffer any longer.” 

“You exist there too?” 

“When you know, you will see.” His answer was cryptic, and Elsa felt more confused now than she had when this conversation started. 

“I suppose I should be confused?” 

“All is not so complicated, dear one. Trust in those around you and you will not be without happiness here.” 

Nodding, Elsa stood up. The thank you that passed through her lips was sincere, and she felt a sudden burst, and the air around her was empty again. 

Back in her chambers, after she had scrambled into bed she thought back to the lion's words. Cryptic as they were, they held a sense of truth. Letting these thoughts go, her mind turned to her developing relationship with Peter, and Amele's timely advice. 

She had a purpose here. 

At least now, her future didn't look so clouded, she thought as she slipped into a deep sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn't a week after the festivals conclusion that saw the very end of the banners taken down, the last of the griffins leaving, and the very final visitors departing. 

Elsa, along with the four monarchs stood on the end of the driftwood pier as the final crates were loaded onto the boat. Somewhere off to the side, Peter was discussing relations with Greigor, who seemed less than enthused about the long boat ride home. 

“Elsa darling, this has been a grand visit.” Amele's hand came to rest on Elsa's shoulder and she turned to hug the older woman. 

“Indeed it has, I shall miss you both a great deal.” Amele's natural scent enveloped Elsa and she felt the beginnings of tears pricking the edges of her eyes. 

“We will return here soon. In the mean time, we will stay in touch.” 

“Of course.” Elsa separated herself from Amele with a smile. “Now, the sooner you leave, the sooner you may return.” 

“That's the spirit.” Amele gave a comforting squeeze before stepping onto the gilded ship. 

Elsa listened to the sound of the lapping waves on the dock as the final preparations were made. She heard the sails unfurl and billow with the morning breeze and the boat creaked with the tide.

“Good journey, my friend!” Peter clasped hands with Greigor in a friendly fashion one final time. 

“It will be. See you in a few months.” Peter stepped back to stand beside his siblings and watched with eyes towards the horizon as the grand ship finally set sail in the warm waters. 

Moments passed as wind whipped through Elsa's locks until she heard retreating footsteps behind her, and felt a gentle hand light on her shoulder. 

“We finally have the castle to ourselves again.” 

Turning to face Peter with a smile, she couldn't find words to express the sadness that clenched her. 

“Listen, I know that you haven't seen much of Narnia yet.” 

Elsa's eyebrow arched at Peter's unusual turn of phrase and she was rewarded with an awkward cough. 

“I know, don't say it. Anyway, it would seem that you are here for the long haul. I must depart for a diplomacy mission to Archeland. Susan will be otherwise occupied with matters of court and Edmund and Lucy are too young for something like this.” The last bit came out in a hurried rush, indicative of some sort of discomfort on Peter's part. Clearly he didn't do this sort of thing very often. 

“Yes, go on Peter.” A smirk settled on Elsa's face as she waited for the embarrassed monarch to continue his proposal.

“Yes well, and I thought it might be a perfect opportunity to establish you as a valuable member of the cabinet.” 

Elsa's eyebrow arched even farther as they started back up the dock towards the beach. “Valuable member of the cabinet?” 

“It's just going to be for a few weeks, just to make sure things are going smoothy with our alliance. Several scouting reports suggest that the giants in Ettinsmoor are preparing for a multi fronted war.”

“Essentially, you are securing them as an asset, and hoping to pump them for more information?” 

“Well, yes. That would be the wise thing to do.” 

“Because after all, what threat are a couple of fauns against an army of smelly giants?” Elsa's dry humor wasn't missed, and Peter laughed, linking arms with her. 

“Something like that.” 

Elsa hummed, thinking about Peter's proposal. “Weeks abroad with the king and his guard, in a foreign land, only reliant on your propensity to wheel and deal them for information? I think I'm going to pass on that.” Elsa made a sour face. “I rather think you can handle yourself.” Elsa pulled him close, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. 

“You can't be serious.”

Elsa laughed now, unable to contain herself. “Of course I'm not. I would love to accompany you. As lovely as the castle is, I think I might go stir crazy soon.” 

The pair strolled into the sand to the tune of the sea gulls out in the distance. 

“Well then, I suppose it's settled.” 

“What's settled, exactly?” 

“Woman!” Peter shouted, exasperated. “Can you not just act normal, please?” 

Elsa giggled, her gaze settled above his left shoulder. “I'm sorry, Peter. You are just so much fun to mess with.” 

Peter looked on and watched as Elsa walked through the tall grass, her delicate fingers catching on the wildflowers. 

“Peter it's beautiful outside.” Arbitrarily closing her eyes, she sighed contentedly and laid on her back in the sweet Narnian grass. 

“It is. It is a shame that you can't experience it to it's fullest.” Peter sat down next to her and gazed out at the wild blue sky. 

Elsa laughed, a light melodious sound escaping from her lips. “So tell me, Peter. What am I missing out on?” 

“Well, the sky is a wonderful color of blue. The sun is the brightest it's been in a while and the grass is as green as the whole forest.” 

Elsa chuckled again and moved in front of him, covering his eyes with her hands. “Elsa, what are you doing?” 

“Shh. Now tell me what you feel.” 

“You hands, to start with!” 

“Humor me, darling.” 

Peter concentrated and exhaled. “I feel the wind and sun on my face. I can smell the earth underneath me.” 

Elsa removed her hands, a smile on her face. “See?” 

Peter's brows curled in confusion. “What happened?” 

“When you are sighted, your eyes want to dominate how you perceive the world around you. Take away the eyes, and it's like a whole other world opens up.” 

Peter took her hands in his and drank in the carefree smile that had spread across her face. “I don't think I have ever seen you this happy.” 

A blush rose on her pallid cheeks and the smile grew into a grin. “You make me so happy, Peter.” 

Peter rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. “I couldn't ever imagine being this happy with anyone else.” Peter pulled her in close, his hand traveling up her spine. 

“You know,” Peter started “We don't have to be with anyone else.”

“Peter darling, what are you suggesting?” 

Peter laughed. “Only to formalize what we have been doing for quite some time.” 

“And tell me, what have we been doing?” A smirk spread on Elsa's face as she leaned in to his touch. 

Peter's hand spidered through her growing hair. “You know very well what we've been doing Elsa Grace Markham.” 

“Harmless flirting?” Their noses touched softly and her eyes fluttered closed. 

“Falling in love.” Peter's voice silenced to a husky whisper and his hand cradled her cheek. 

“Peter?” Elsa's breath caught in her throat. 

“It's true. I love you.” Peter leaned in, kissing her supple lips. 

Elsa was speechless when his lips left hers. “Peter, I don't know what to say.” 

He pulled away, his voice returning to normal, with just a hint of despair. “You don't feel the same?”

“Of course I feel the same.” Elsa caught his arm and pulled him back. “Peter Pevensie you have a propensity to sweep women off their feet.” 

A devilish smile crept across his features and before she could react, Peter grabbed her up under her knees, pulling her into his arms bridal style. Elsa screamed, surprised and threw her arms around his neck. 

“Peter, what on earth are you doing?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Elsa's brow furrowed. “Of course.” 

Peter leaned in, brushing her ear with his lips. “Then quit screaming, you'll make a scene” he growled playfully into her ear. Peter stalked up the path, away from the castle. Elsa noted the change in direction as the wind tickled her face. 

“Peter, where are we going?” 

“You'll love this.” As Peter kept walking, the wind got stronger until he stopped and set her down gently. 

Elsa extended a hand to feel the air around her and felt herself tripping forward into the empty space. 

Acting quickly, Peter caught her around the middle. “Steady, steady.” 

The cliff before them opened up and it was then that Elsa felt the strong cross winds, gusting upwards and out. She opened her arms parallel to the ground. 

“Feels like you're flying, doesn't it?” 

“Almost. It feels better this way.” 

“Mm, how's that?” 

Elsa wrapped her arms around his and leaned back into him. “Because I hope that I will always have you to ground me.”

Peter chuckled behind her, nipping her ear gently. “You're stuck with me.” 

“Forever I hope.” She twisted her head around, a smile parting her ruby lips.

“I wouldn't have it any other way.”   
As Elsa walked back into the castle by the sea, for what may have been the millionth time that day, it wasn't the first time she had considered backing out on Peter. When she had initially told him yes, she hadn't considered the amount of planning and preparation that would go into such an endeavor. Letting her thin hand trail along the limestone and quartz of the entry hall, her mind weighed heavy with thought of the coming months. 

'Realistically, we will only be in the country for a little over a couple of weeks, then it's back to the castle.'

With that comforting thought, she ejected herself from her thoughts and headed back to her chambers. What started out as a short stroll, ended up at the end of the gardens overlooking the vast sea. It only occurred to her after her hand had wound itself in the bristle of the bush in front of her that she realized she wasn't inside her chambers. As she let the sun kiss her face, she reflected on what was her last afternoon in Narnia for quite some time. 

She hadn't really thought about it, but there was no place like this. A place kissed with perfect rainfall, then dried off with dappled sunlight and a light breeze, and she knew that where they were going, Anvard, would be nothing like this. 

She could imagine the intense heat, radiating from an angry sun, and a thick dusting of sand covering every surface. The inside of the fortress castle would be a maze of twisting hallways, decaying stairways, and crumbling walls. It would be more ruin, than castle

She could smell the dust even now, in the clean open air. 

They would sail south, from the river's mouth, then make landfall just east of Anvard. The journey would be made on the glittering C.S.L Rosemarta and take just inside of three weeks, if all went well. 

And all would go well, of this she was most certain, and most hopeful. 

 

Drin flitted around Elsa's rooms, making sure that she had packed everything the young woman might need. Packing it all had been a feat of intelligence and organizing. Because Drin couldn't be available to accompany her, everything would be sorted just so. To be sure of no unintentional mishaps, instructions were scribbled on a spare bit of parchment and packed along with Elsa, in a leather satchel.

The passage of time during her stay had become most evident when Drin filtered through Elsa's gowns. Months had passed, and the seamstress and her ladies had churned out dress after dress to clothe the newcomer. 

Besides Susan, Drin had come to be one of Elsa's closest confidantes, and she thought of the girl fondly. Being on the outside, she could see the ripples that were emanating from Elsa. Ever since her mysterious appearance in the guest chambers, accompanied by the majestic lion, she had begun changing things. They were small, subtle, but none the less noticeable. 

The monarchs took to her like a fish to water, but that wasn't all. Nearly the whole castle seemed brighter, and the staff buzzed with excitement. She was instantly likeable, everyone related to her, and everyone loved her. 

But no one loved her more, or was changed more because of, than King Peter. Nearly everyone noticed the change in his demeanor, the spring in his step, and the increasing and absolute love that poured from his being at the mention of her name. 

Grim thoughts came to her when she thought of the young fledgeling traveling alone, but she was comforted in that she trusted Peter, and she knew that Elsa would be safe. 

With that final thought, she tugged the last case to rest with the others and sighed, sitting on the wooden trunk. It was during the down time that she remembered why she was here, beyond the love of her job. Thoughts of her large family, sitting beside a fire in the Shuddering Wood swam to the forefront of her mind, and she gladly let the lyre music, the spice of the soup, and the chill of the autumn air wrap around her.

 

Morning came early for the young travelers. Before she was ready, or willing, a bundle of energy bounded into her room and onto her bed. 

“You must write to us every day and let us know that you're okay!” Lucy's voice sounded thick with emotion, and Elsa sat up, a hand running through the young girls growing hair. 

“Lu, Peter and I will write to you every single time we have the chance.” With her other hand, she rubbed her tired eyes, a yawn escaping from her lips. 

“Promise?” 

“Of course.” A smile came to her lips and she patted Lucy's back gently. “Now, the sooner you let me leave, the sooner I can come back.” 

Acquiescing to the logic presented to her, Lucy slid off of the duvet, standing off to the side as Elsa got to her feet. 

“You'll have to tell us everything.” 

Elsa laughed as she stood behind the dressing screen, tugging on the green linen dress she had set aside. “It's going to be boring.” 

“I know. Peter never lets me go anywhere. I'm just the baby.” 

“Lucy, politics are horrid. Be thankful that you have nothing to do with them.” 

“I know, but still.” Lucy pouted from the other side of the screen, her lower lip sticking out just slightly. 

“Tell you what,” Elsa started, swishing out from behind the screen. “I bet it's because you are more fun to have here.” 

Lucy seemed to contemplate this before speaking again. “You're right. I will have the chance to go see Tumnus anyway.” 

“You see? This will work out Lu, you just have to trust Peter.” 

 

Elsewhere in the castle, not so very far away, a young king sat on the edge of his bed, locked in an internal debate. 

This was not a good idea. Relations with Archeland weren't friendly, certainly not enough to trust Elsa to anyone in that castle. He knew that there were still people in the Tisroc's employment that would rather he not come at all. 

Natick, along with a security detail, would be present with them the whole time. Things would turn out fine. Peter knew he didn't have any reason to worry, perhaps Susan was rubbing off on him after all. 

Or maybe he was crazy. 

 

The goodbye was short at the dock. Susan wrapped her arms around her older brother, and her close friend. “Be safe,” she whispered into their ears. 

“What could go wrong?” Peter shrugged, forcing a smile but betraying none of the anxiety he felt. 

“You, I think are the last person to ask a question like that.” The smarm flooded her voice faster than he had ever heard, and he grinned, separating from Susan. 

“You, ma'am are entirely too cheeky.” 

“I think you just might enjoy it too much.” 

“Okay, you two.” Susan interjected with the sunny voice that Elsa would miss. “You will have plenty of time to snark once you leave!” 

Elsa turned to Susan, her hand reaching out to rub her shoulder affectionately for a moment. 

The spell was broken when the Captain cleared his throat, beckoning the king and his lady onto the ship. 

“Su, I trust you.” 

“I can handle it, go have your fun.” 

And fun it most certainly was not. An hour into the voyage south, Elsa grew bored quick. While Peter stayed on the bow, giving a heading and conferring instructions to the helmsmen and the Captain, she stayed pressed to the large railing, until she felt a large hand cover hers. 

“Are you afraid of falling off?” There was humor, and teasing in Oreius' voice. 

“I didn't think we would be sailing when Peter asked me to come with him.” 

“How did you think we were going to get there?” Oreius' barking laugh made her shudder. Upon finding her face, a mixture of fear, and irritation, Oreius coughed, “Excuse me.” 

Finding that she was once again, alone, she let her fingers dig into the rich wood of the railing on the edge of the ship, and she took in a deep breath. She listened to the lateen sails above her fill with air, propelling the ship south, towards their destination. 

Just when she had begun to let her mind wander, Peter's familiar hand wrapped around her waist. 

“Come on, lets get you settled in.” 

The stateroom where the two would be rooming together was tiny. Two cots were set up on either side of the room, with their most basic luggage piled in the middle. As Elsa outstretched her arms, her fingers found the glass of a porthole, just above her cot. An end table, accompanied by what felt to be an oil fueled lamp sat beside the bed and she chuckled, handing the unnecessary object to Peter. 

“Here, you might get more use out of this than me.” She felt Peter's hand top her own, and his gentle touch warmed her. 

“I suppose so,” he took the lamp from her, and she heard it thunk on the shelf above his head. 

Silence filled the cabin and Elsa needlessly closed her eyes, listening to the tide lapping at the side of the ship. Suddenly, the ship lurched to it's side and she tripped headlong, stopped only by Peter's sure footing and sudden movements.

“What on earth was that?” Peter muttered under his breath, quite unsure. Seemingly in a hurry, he left the room, his feet making quickened thunks against the wooden planks below. 

Having nothing else to do at the moment, Elsa sank onto the lumpy cot and settled herself into a state of light meditation. She found it was easily broken by the occasionally strong wave brushing up against the ship, but after some quick breathing exercises, she was uninterrupted for quite some time. 

“What was that?” Peter pounded up to the wheel, approaching the helmsmen. 

“We've just cleared the last of the inland tides, sire.” 

“Ah, wonderful. Very good.” Peter's eyes darted around nervously, catching the attention of several of the crew. 

“If you don't mind me speaking plainly sir,” Helmsmen McKenna looked towards the young king for permission, who only nodded. McKenna continued. “You seem a bit uneasy. Is this your first time on the sea?” 

Peter laughed nervously. “Does it show?” 

McKenna nodded as his gold eyes surveyed the sea in front of him. “It will take some getting used to.” 

“Do you like it out here?” 

“The sea? Oh, she can be a wonderful, and cruel mistress. Just don't cross her.” The mystery in McKenna's voice was enough to spook Peter and he left the bow, rubbing the back of his neck. When he got back to the tiny stateroom, the familiar sight of a fully concentrated Elsa greeted him, and he tiptoed quietly back to his bed, opening up his satchel. 

This would be as good a time as ever he decided, taking out his leather bound volume and ink set. He would chronicle everything. 

When Elsa came to, the faint smell of ink and parchment greeted her nose and her eyebrow arched.   
“Peter, I didn't know you kept a diary.” Peter didn't need to look up to know that the same snarky grin had split her lips, leaving her gleaming teeth showing in the lamplight. 

“It's not a diary,” Peter said defensively, putting away the book and ink set. “I just thought it would be nice to keep a record of the journey.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night dear,” Elsa said dismissively.


	7. Chapter 7

I, Peter Martin Pevensie, started this journal aboard the Rosemarta to chronicle the journey. Many of these men will not be remembered beyond their love of the wonders of the sea, it only seems fitting to immortalize their efforts, in whatever way I can.

The people aboard the ship are of a strange breed. They are loyal to their Captain, but they seem to hold a deeper understanding with each other. It's almost like a brotherhood. They don't act like a crew, they act like a family. I can identify.

Helmsmen McKenna seems to be the the most experienced of them. I don't know what it is about him, but something has happened to him. Something that cost him dearly. He doesn't seem to want to talk about it, but if you catch him in the right light, you can just tell. He has a long, angular scar running down his face, it doesn't look like it came from a blade. More like a claw shape than anything else. I shouldn't pry, but there is something more to him.

She knows I'm doing something over here. I can see her eyebrow arch in the low light, and the smile that splits open her beautiful lips.

In some ways, more so than others, Elsa doesn't seem very blind at all. She is so perceptive that if she were to see, I would be afraid for everyone's privacy.

I suppose when you are as close to someone, as I am to her, you regard them in a different light than anyone else. What they do seems shielded by innocence. It becomes almost impossible to blame them for anything, not that she has done anything wrong.

She's so sarcastic, if you aren't paying attention she will rip you up one side, and down the other. It's almost noticeable that English isn't her first language, but I think living here with us has made her more comfortable with using it.

I remember a story Susan told me one day. It was from Greek mythology, I think. Things from that life are getting harder and harder to recall. It's said that our ancestors had four arms and four legs, and a single head made of two faces. But Zeus feared their power and split them in half, condemning them to forever search for their other half. What if Elsa is my other half?

I think we were meant to know each other.

I'm so glad she can't read this. She would kill me.

June 19th evening-

I can't sleep. Must be first night jitters or something. The whole ship is so silent, you could hear a pin drop.

She is so beautiful when she sleeps. The moon is coming in through the window above her bed, and her skin looks like it's glowing in the moonlight.

I want to remember this moment forever, to burn it into my memory.

June 20th, mid-morning

Elsa has never been on a ship either. The seasickness doesn't seem to stretch beyond her, thankfully. I feel a little queasy, but not as bad as she does.

She said it was because everything was constantly moving, it was throwing off her internal compass.

The crew understands, but they have all stayed away from her below deck.

The sea is almost endless now, the Lone Islands are barely a speck on the northern horizon. The excitement is wearing off quick, and we are all getting very bored.

I can imagine that there is only so long Oreius and I can discuss escape strategy before either of us goes crazy. The odds of something going drastically wrong are small.

Small, but noticeable none the less.

Even though it's not home, I will be glad when we make landfall.

June 22nd Midday

Sea.

Sea.

Sea.

Kill me now.

June 24th, evening

The Captain thinks we might be headed into a storm soon, and we have taken refuge below the deck. Elsa seems to think so too, either that or the ship smells a bit weird.

The next time we travel anywhere, it's going to be on foot.

"Do you believe that?" Peter's mild annoyance came through in his voice as he rooted through their belongings in the tiny stateroom.

"Believe what?" Elsa had managed to salvage a pale pink linen dress and was now hanging up the rest of their clothing on a line.

"My journal is completely gone."

"It would be, Peter. We were underneath the water for a couple of good minutes. It's a miracle we all survived, much less our belongings."

Peter clicked his tongue, letting his leather satchel fall to the floor boards with a squelch. "I know, I'm just..." Peter trailed off here and a long silence filled the cabin.

"Frustrated?" Elsa left her hanging and beckoned Peter over with a crook of her index finger. "I know, dear." Reaching her hands up, she proceeded to knead the knots out of his tense shoulders.

"This trip was supposed to go off without a hitch."

"You can't predict the future." Elsa reminded the monarch with a motherly tone and with a pat on his shoulders, she turned back to her laundry. Peter let out a grumpy sounding grunt, opening the cabin door to the light breeze of the top deck.

"I suppose there is some good in all of this."

Elsa's eyebrow arched and she cocked her head. "What are you talking about?"

"I think I see land."

"We aren't supposed to be shore side for at least a week." Elsa walked out onto the deck and stuck her face out, the smell of greenery and the light screeching of nearby gulls alerted her to land.

"I suppose the storm blew us ahead of schedule."

Heavy footsteps behind the pair sounded and the low chuckle of the quartermaster came to their ears.

"Thank the lion, we need an extra couple of days to resupply anyway."

The quartermaster, Aaron Hawkins, had a slight drinking problem. Long years of sailing had led to a rum addiction and a permanent callous between two of his fingers from where the bottle usually hung. Elsa didn't want to spend too much time around quartermaster Hawkins, but there was something about him that reminded her of her Uncle Eli. Broody, mysterious, and willful to a fault.

While traveling one summer across the borders, Eli happened across a small camp of gypsies. It was there that he met his wife, Blanche. Her raven hair and enchanting perfume drew him in like a moth to the flame. At first, he was convinced that it was a passing fling, that it wouldn't last. But he found the more time he spent with the camp of gypsies, the more he came to love them, and respect their culture.

They were married in the spring, in a small ceremony in the woods where they met.

When Blanche moved to the city to be with her husband and her new family, her way of life came with her. She never lost her culture, her way of life. The scarves she wore in her hair to tie back her raven tresses trailed in the wind and tossed spice into the warm air. Blanche made life fun. She could rivet a room by spinning a simple tale and she was always enlivening any party.

The people who lived in the city saw her as an exotic addition to their bleak and dreary lives, and they found themselves drawn to her, much the same as Eli first was.

Her Uncle Eli had lost his wife Blanche to the midnight raids by the SS. At first he wouldn't stop searching for her. The whole of Salzburg, and it's surrounding districts had become a flurry of lost persons posters and grieving people. He wasn't the only one who lost someone, he was just the only one to put up a fight.

A week later, he was taken too. When he came back, he was docile, and calm. It was like the fight had just left him. Aunt Blanche was never seen again, and Uncle Eli wasn't the same.

Bringing her back to the present, the quartermaster let out a grunt, stomping away from the pair.

"Well, he is quite the character."

Elsa hummed, her hand coming to rest on the crock of Peter's arm. "He reminds me of someone."

"And who is that?"

Elsa concentrated, but after a couple of seconds, the memories of her old life failed to spark. "You know, I can't remember."

"You can't remember?"

Elsa shook her head, her mind going back to the conversation she had with his sisters the day of the festival.

"Can you remember where you used to live, before this?"

Peter concentrated beside her, and after a moment he clicked his tongue. "Finchley, England I think."

"And what was Finchley like?"

Peter smiled, his hand grazing her back. "Quiet, and quaint. Until the firebombings." Peter's voice turned dark and it sent shivers up her spine. "Before the firebombings began, everything was just fine. Then, one day dad got us all together and told us that he had been called off to the war front. For a couple of months, mum tried to act like nothing had changed."

"But it had changed," Elsa nodded understandingly.

"German planes had flown over London before, but they had never gotten close to Finchley, I thought we may have been in the clear. Finchley had always been a small town, where nothing interesting ever happened. Then in the middle of the night, German bombers flew over the town and the whole city was in flames." Peter's tone took on a dark edge and shivers crawled up Elsa's spine.

"Before all of this, where were you from?"

Elsa cleared her throat, thinking for a moment. "Ah, Salzburg." When Peter's silence became telling, she furthered. "Very close knit town, really. The type of place where everyone knew everyone else. But after Suzanne died, it seemed harder to connect with people." Elsa stopped, swallowing down a sudden lump in her throat. "When you have someone else beside you your whole life, you really don't live outside of them. When they're gone, you learn." A sad smile crossed Elsa's face and she turned towards Peter, a laugh of all things escaping her throat.

"Thank you, Peter."

Peter's lips parted, then descended on hers but for a moment. "Always," he whispered against her cherry red lips.

–

They had finally made landfall, just as the Sun crested in the east and begun it's journey west the next morning. As Elsa's slippered feet made contact with solid ground for the first time in a couple of weeks, relief flooded her and a carefree smile split her features. The sand on the beach kicked up underneath her excited feet and it wasn't for a couple of minutes that found her excitement quelled as she picked the miniscule rocks from her shoe.

"Elsa!" Peter shouted across the beachhead, snarled by pieces of driftwood, washed ashore from the storm. "There's driftwood everywhere, be careful!" Only receiving a laugh in response, Peter shook his head, a contradictory smile on his own face.

Behind Peter, Oreius cleared his throat. "Your majesty, we should get going as soon as possible. It would not be wise to be out once the sun sets."

"Alright then." Peter rubbed the back of his neck as Oreius trotted towards Elsa.

"I'm so happy that we've finally made landfall." Elsa walked towards Oreius, her fingers combing the rats and sand out of her hair.

"It would seem everyone is relieved."

"I suppose we should be on our way then. Oreius, would you lead me?" Elsa's hand touched his back.

"I can do you one better." Oreius scooped up the young woman, depositing her on his back. Surprised, Elsa's hands searched his back for something to hold on to. "Easy, I've got you." Oreius trotted towards the main group at an easy pace.

"Anvard is about a days journey east, if we keep the pace after we hit the market, we should be there by nightfall."

"Sounds about right, Elsa, are you going to be okay up there?"

"Just fine, Peter." Elsa gave him a pearly smile, her blind eyes lighting up with excitement.

The small market was just off the beachhead and the trade was lively for it's location. Conversation burbled from all sides and wind chimes in the distance marked the light wind passing through the area. Coughing, Elsa pulled her sleeve over her mouth and nose to keep the sand out.

"Elsa, here." Peter stopped, his eyes wandering to a vendor beneath an awning. "You might try one of these." Peter pressed a thin silk scarf into her hands and watched her fingers explore every inch of the fabric.

"That would look fantastic on you." The shopkeeper stood up from her stool, her dark hands reaching for the scarf. "Let me pin it on you?"

Elsa nodded, her hand offering the scarf to the shopkeeper. The scarf was draped over her head and wrapped around her neck and pinned beside her ear with an elegant silver and pearl clip.

The finished effect was stunning. The persian red scarf offset her pale features and brought out the silver hue in her blind eyes.

"That is gorgeous. Here darling, see for yourself." The shopkeeper brandished a mirror and Elsa's cheeks turned scarlet.

"No, that's okay." It was a tense couple of moments until the shopkeeper gasped, the mirror shattering on the floor.

"Oh my dear girl. Take the scarf free of charge, I meant no offense." The shopkeeper fled the agora, putting up a closed sign as she clipped through the airy store front.

Peter arched an eyebrow as Elsa reached up to finger the scarf lightly.

"She's right, it does look good."

"Well then, I guess I will just have to trust you." The pair walked out of the store front and met up with the remaining landing party at the edge of the market place, overlooking a vast plain.

"Are we ready, your majesty?" Oreius' booming voice reached the pair as they approached.

"I believe so." Peter mounted his white unicorn smoothly as Oreius' arms wrapped around Elsa's middle, pulling her onto his back.

This time, as the party trotted out into the vast sand , Elsa felt more secure atop Oreius' sturdy frame.

"You and Peter seem to be getting close." Elsa didn't need eyes to see the satisfied smirk spread on Oreius' face.

"I certainly can't say that we are just friends anymore." Elsa chewed her lip, pondering her next move.

"That much is obvious. I think he intends to marry you. But you didn't hear that from me."

It had been lingering in the back of her mind for some time, but now she knew for sure that was where the relationship was headed. There had always been an air of permanence around hers and Peter's relationship, but she chalked it up to the fact that she was still relatively young, and perhaps it was her hormones.

He was nearing his twenties, and without a bride.

How could she have not let that cross her mind until now?

Suddenly the next couple of weeks didn't sit well with her as they neared the castle in the mountains.  
The castle was built on a hill in the middle of a grassy plain and as the weary party came to a close on the castle, they all took a collective sigh of relief. The giant red and brown brick structure seemed to open up to the large traveling party as they made their way into the atrium. Slipping off of Oreius' back, Elsa let her hand rest on his familiar back. 

As if taking a queue from Elsa, Peter slipped off his unicorn, his boots hitting the floor with a thunk. In an instant, she felt Peter's hand cover her own and she let her hand travel up his bicep. 

“Peter, where are we?” Elsa kept her blind eyes fixed straight in front of her in a practiced fashion as she waited for his response.

“The outer atrium is my assumption. There is someone coming our way.” Just as he had alerted her to the oncoming presence of another person, her trained ears picked up the clacking, yet still far off hoof beats.

“Is that a faun?” Her brow ridge furrowed as an errant breeze ruffled her loose curls. 

She was right, an adult sized faun clipped towards them with a smile on his face. 

“Good afternoon. High King Peter, you are nothing if not punctual.” 

“Glad to hear it May I represent to you the lady Elsa Markham, my most trusted adviser.” 

Elsa offered her hand in greeting and wasn't at all shocked when a slightly furry hand began to pump her arm up and down enthusiastically. 

“It is a pleasure as always to meet the High King's staff.” Elsa worked to hide the slight irritation at the word “staff” and instead smiled pleasantly, her gaze slightly off center.

The messenger withdrew his hand as an uncomfortable air settled on the group. 

“This is Oreius, the general of my army, and Natick, my head of security.” Peter gestured to each and the messenger was not short at all on enthusiasm. 

“Very good. We have prepared the western end of the castle for your occupation. If you would please follow me, and we can get you all settled in. Oreius, we have extensive quarters just outside that I think you might find very welcoming. Someone will be along shortly to show you the way.” 

For modesty, Elsa moved her hand from his bicep to his shoulder as the pair followed the faun. Natick and his men followed closely, their eyes constantly shifting to assess the possibility of any threat. The Archenland Narnia alliance was an old one, and King Lune was not a vindictive person, but Natick would be a fool to think that everyone else thought the same.

Elsa listened as the guide spouted off tidbits about the castles architecture, her ears tuning to the echos that bounced off the brick walls and vaulted ceilings. 

“This place is huge,” Elsa commented to Peter in a low whisper. 

“Yes, the whole castle is like this. The king who built it wanted large, open spaces. Hence the vaulted ceilings and floor to ceiling windows, as you can see.” The tour guide remained completely aloof to Elsa's condition, much to her surprise. 

Choosing not to say anything, she continued on slightly behind Peter. The whole place smelled like burning incense and parchment, and one other element that Elsa struggled to isolate. 

“The wooden rafters were made from the trees that grow just outside the castle, and sometimes on warm afternoons, you can smell the wood all the way down here.” 

Elsa smiled, recognition apparent on her face. That's what it was. 

The faun clipped ahead, turning corners and climbing stairs until they came to a stop. 

“And these rooms are all yours for the entirety of your stay. Your things arrived an hour ago, and have been placed in your respective rooms.” 

“That's incredibly convenient.” Peter stepped forward slightly, taking a long look around the main room. It contained a rather comfortable looking sofa and two tables in front of a fireplace, with two rooms branching out on either side. A balcony on the far side of the room offered a sweeping view of the landscape around them and a distant mountain range.

“King Peter, yours is on the right, Lady Markham, your rooms are to the left. Enjoy your stay.” With those parting words, the messenger backed out of the room, leaving Peter and Elsa alone in their suite of rooms.

Elsa stepped forward tentatively, her fingers hanging in the air. When they didn't find anything, she took another step, and another until something sharp hit her shin. 

“Ficken!” She swore, rubbing her sin. 

“Such language,” Peter took her hand and led her to the sofa, putting her hand on the arm rest. “I didn't think a lady such as yourself was capable of that.”

“What did I run into this time?” 

“You were doing rather well until you hit the coffee table.” Peter chuckled, sitting down next to her. “Before you came here, did you not have a cane? You know, something to help you with all this?” 

Elsa nodded, settling into the back of the sofa. “I did. It's still there, sitting in the corner where I left it last.”

“So, what happened, before you ended up here?” 

Elsa hummed, reaching down to slip her shoes off. “It was a routine night. Dinner was quiet and uncomfortable. I went up to my room, dressed for bed, and fell asleep.” Elsa's brow furrowed as she struggled to remember. 

“At some point during the night, it started to rain. I remember the way it makes the window by my bedside nearly frost over. It was the most peculiar thing. I saw a bright light, and in a single moment, I saw a lion, standing on the edge of a forest.” 

“Wait, you saw?” 

“It's complicated. I still have some light perception, but it takes quite a bit.” Elsa stopped here, chewing on her lip to remember the last bits. “I remember a voice saying, Come, dear one.”

“I lost it. I left everything, including my cane and my shoes, and I ran. I didn't care that it was raining, I didn't care that my feet were getting cut up from the rocks and branches. I just ran. The further I went, the less and less I could hear it.” Furrowing her brows, she struggled through the next part. “I don't remember the last time I was that uninhibited. I did it almost like it was instinct.”

“I don't remember falling asleep in the woods, or the Gestapo officer dragging me into a car. I woke up, and I was being dragged down a hallway. I was filthy, and probably sick. The head officer at the depot wanted to send me to “The experimentation chambers”. I was taken to a cell, then I woke up in my room in Cair Paravel.” 

“You heard Aslan, and you followed his voice?” Peter didn't quite understand. Her experience was unlike his entirely. 

“He was with me the whole time. I just didn't know who he was until the Midsummer Festival.” 

Peter nodded in understanding, “There might be a bleed through effect between our two worlds.” Peter put forth the suggestion and watched Elsa cycle through several facial gestures before finally settling on her classic arched eyebrow. 

“I suppose anything is possible.” Her closed answer made Peter laugh and before they could continue the conversation any further, an elven handmaiden waltzed gracefully into the room. Coming to a stop in front of the seated royal and his companion, she dropped into a low curtsy. 

“I am Lana. I have been tasked to these rooms and I will be with you both for the length of your stay here. Miss Elsa, I have received the note in your luggage from Drin. I understand you require certain set routines. I have prepared your rooms to her specifications, but please let me know if I've missed anything.” 

“Yes, of course dear.” Elsa was a little miffed that Drin had written ahead without telling her, and was a little more than miffed that Drin didn't think she could handle herself for a few weeks. 

“Now, if Miss Elsa would follow me, I will show her to her rooms. The high king Peter is more than welcome to look around his rooms.” 

Lana led her through a small sitting room, chattering away about the castles many amenities and listing off the contents of the tiny, but rather effective sitting room. Beyond the small enclave with a wing-backed chair and settee were her personal chambers. Instead of columns and arches separating the bathing area from the main of the room, the bathing area sat behind a solid wall behind her bed. 

Lana, through any appearance of being completely comfortable was sweating bullets. The note she had received was complete in it's instructions, but the nervousness that pricked at her just wouldn't leave. 

“Lana, this is all very wonderful. I want to thank you for making sure that my needs are met here.” Elsa thought the diplomatic approach would be appropriate. She really had no idea how easily she might anger. Archenland may be just to the south of Narnia and be more or less the same, but she felt the need to be delicate, just until she gained her footing in the castle. 

“Would you like to freshen up before dinner? I can draw a bath for you.” Elsa caught the anxiousness in her voice and she knew that Lana felt uneasy around her, but was trying to stay busy not to think about it. 

Elsa did feel sore after the days journey from the docks and hadn't had a proper bath since she left Cair Paravel. When she took all of this into account, it wasn't difficult to nod and quietly say “Yes, that sounds wonderful.” 

Elsa sank into the warm water up to her chin and let her blind eyes slip shut. Lana had sat on a stool behind the tub and had taken to prattling on about the castle staff, and although Elsa had tried to pay attention, after she delved in on everyone's sex lives, she tuned out. 

After a while, Elsa's skin was tingling from all the scrubbing, but she felt more or less clean. After drying off, she slipped into the offered gown and spent the rest of her time before dinner combing out the various tangles that had taken up residence in her slightly curly platinum hair. 

“Elsa?” Peter walked into her room, his footsteps clipping on the stone much the same as it did back at home. “Elsa, are you ready?” 

Elsa smiled and stood up, slipping her feet into her shoes. “I suppose. Are you going to escort me to dinner?” 

Peter rubbed his hand along her arm as she latched onto him expertly. “If I don't do it, who else would?” 

“What on earth are you insinuating? There are plenty of men jumping at the chance to escort me.” 

Peter scoffed good naturedly. “Because you are just so charming.” Peter stopped at the threshold of the door and turned to his companion, regarding her gently. 

“I've been told.” Elsa smiled wryly as her hand wandered up to his jaw line. After a moment, it wandered further and found the prominent peak of his nose and she giggled. “You're blushing, dear.” 

“It happens when I'm in the presence of gorgeous women such as yourself.” Peter's arm snaked around her waist and his lips made brief contact with hers. “Now,” He pulled away from her, schooling the blush from his face. “Let's go wow these people.”


	8. Chapter 8

Morning came early for the guests of King Lune and Peter rose, stretching his arms above his head. The night of sleep he had gotten was sufficient enough. The bed was lumpy on one end, or so he thought. His bed at Cair Paravel was worlds softer than the one here, but maybe he was just being picky. Getting to his feet, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and shuffled over to the water filled basin on the other side of the dressing divider.

Dappled sunlight came in through the curtain and he opened the window to garner a look outside. A bank of clouds advanced towards the castle on a hill and Peter sighed. Today would be a long day.

Opening the closet where he had put his clothes, he pulled out a pair of pants and a tunic. When his hand reached for the belt and scabbard that held his white steel sword Rhindon, he reached instead for just the belt, leaving the scabbard behind. There would be no need for swords or violence here.

Nevertheless, he took confidence in the fact that he knew where it would be should he need it.

Setting the clothing on his bed, he performed an efficient toilette over the basin. After every last bit of grime from the previous night had been scrubbed away from his face and hair, he dressed swiftly.

As he was buckling his belt, a scream followed by the shattering of something alerted him. Stuffing his feet in his warm brown leather boots, he strode quickly towards Elsa's rooms.

"Elsa?" The door opened to reveal the handmaiden Lana scraping porcelain shards off the floor, shrinking away from Elsa in what looked like fear. Elsa thankfully was covered with a dressing gown, clutching her hand as waves of irritation washed over her.

Spilled coffee mingled with chips of white porcelain on the stone mosaic floor and Peter absentmindedly worried about Elsa's bare feet. Her feet are adorable.

"I'm fine, Peter." She assured him through gritted teeth. Irritation burned on her face, and Peter pitied the elven ladies maid tasked to these rooms.

"I'll get you another cup, miss." Lana practically ran out of the room, clutching the glass shards in her long fingers.

Elsa somehow didn't miss the perplexed look on Peter's face and she scowled in his direction, turning to her own basin perched on a shelf.

"Just don't ask."

Peter fit two and two together and strode across the room, taking her slightly red hand in his.

"I can take care of it," Elsa made a move towards the water basin, but Peter held her hand steadfastly in his. Turning it over in his hands, his eyes found singed skin and he grabbed a towel, submerging it quickly in water before pressing it onto her burning palm.

"I could tell," Peter backed away as Lana came back in with a fresh cup of coffee and a towel draped over her arm.

"Here you go miss, handle is on the left." Lana's voice was shaky and uncertain and when she had mopped up the coffee on the floor, she backed out of the room again timidly.

"I dropped the first one," Elsa muttered as she sipped at the second cup, grimacing at the taste. "Ugh, it's black."

Peter peered over the rim of the cup and sure enough, not a drop of cream had been added. "Will you say anything?"

Elsa shook her head as she drained the cup in one swift motion. "So she can mess it up again? I think not."

"Something the matter with you today?"

Elsa turned and headed for the bedside table and put the cup down, turning again and smacking her shin against the thick iron bedpost. Biting back a curse, her face contorted into thinly veiled contempt. "I hate this bloody place! I want to go home."

Peter had seen her grow irritated at few things. So, naturally whenever Elsa had felt a black mood coming on, she had shut herself inside her rooms until it passed. Thus, Peter had seen very little of the angry Elsa that was before him now.

Taking her by the arm gently, he guided her to the small settee in front of the window, his grip on her arm tenuous at best.

She sank into the cushions gratefully, her blind eyes downcast. "I apologize, Peter. It would seem it is going to be 'one of those days.'"

Peter bent over and laid a kiss on her forehead. "It's alright. Just get dressed and come have breakfast with me."

When Peter left, Elsa exhaled a long breath she didn't know she had been holding. Taking the silence to her advantage, she breathed deeply, sitting cross legged on the window seat. Meditation did not come easy for the already irritated young woman. But after a few minutes, she had been able to control her temper and the nearly sedated state came as easy as breathing.

"Miss," A near mousy voice interrupted the session. "Miss, are you ready to get dressed?"

With renewed kindness in her voice, Elsa raised her head towards the door, a smile slipping onto her face. "Yes, I believe I am." Her voice was an unusual, low toned lilting and it seemed even Lana had caught onto it.

"Well, we had best not keep the High King waiting." Footsteps headed towards the closet and opened the large, wooden door. Skirts rustled from their temporary homes and Elsa got to her feet, wincing slightly at the temperature of the stone beneath her soles.

Lana hummed to herself inside the closet, then emerged with a silk dress on her arm. "I believe this will suit you nicely, Miss." Lana's mood seemed to perk up as she took charge, ushering Elsa behind the dressing screen. Her fingers expertly untied the dressing gown and sheathed Elsa in the flowing linen material.

The morning seemed to progress better and around a quarter of an hour later, Elsa emerged from her rooms, dressed in a dusty rose linen dress with her trademark scarlet lips smirking in Peter's direction.

Breakfast was plentiful and after they had sat for a while just the two of them, Natick had appeared from his rooms, a yawn escaping him.

Elsa sniffed the air around him tentatively. "Up late last night drinking, Natick?"

The air was stiff, and uncomfortable. Like a taboo subject had been breached. The silence was palpable, and Peter cleared his throat. If Natick had problems, they would be kept to himself. No one need say anything of them.

"How did you know?"

Peter laughed then, "She has the nose of a bloodhound. It's no wonder she knew."

Natick took a seat around the table and reached for a piece of toast, slathering it with marmalade. "It's a wonder how anything is kept secret from her." Natick didn't mean for her to hear it, but nevertheless, she did.

"It would seem that is rather obvious," Elsa stood, stretching her arms above her head. "Peter, when are they expecting us?"

"Soon, more than likely." Peter stood and brushed his hand over hers and marveled at the way they fit together so perfectly. Her hand would travel the length of his forearm before coming to a stop at the crook of his elbow. Gentle, feminine fingers gripped his muscles softly, trustingly.

"Well, lets not keep them waiting,"

Natick shoved the last of the toast in his mouth hurriedly and walked after the monarch and his lady. He would keep a respectful distance, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. He wouldn't need it here. Anvard was a fiercely loyal friend to Narnia, but Natick did not trust all of the castles current occupants.

The Tisroc (May he live forever) had sent his own pack of diplomats in his stead, and each were more shady looking than the last. If Natick were to guess, they bore the look of trained mercenaries, rather than the soft, yet thoroughly threatening demeanor that accompanied a diplomat.

Natick watched his King and Elsa walk down the very different halls of Anvard, and part of him recognized the bond that they shared. It was the same that he had shared with Jochabed. His Jochabed, waiting even now for his return to Narnia.

Peter and Elsa wound a corner carefully and walked into a large, nearly cavernous chamber. Bookcases lined it's vast walls, complete with many of the nations scholarly work. In the middle of the room sat a beautiful polished table, complete with seating enough for the whole peace talks delegation.

Natick watched the pair pick out two seats and he took his place behind them, as had everyone else serving security detail.

Elsa controlled her nerves as she sat down to the now full table. "Why didn't you tell me we were late?" Elsa hissed into Peter's ear, embarrassment flaming in her cheeks.

"We aren't that late. Besides, if I told you, you would have panicked." She knew he was right, and she settled down into the uncomfortable chair, her posture correcting itself.

"Now that we are all here, lets begin." King Lune addressed the delegation from the head of the table, his voice carrying nicely in the cavernous chamber.

"I agree," An accent that Elsa could not place spoke from somewhere on her left and she heard the shuffling of parchment being unraveled around her. "I believe the first thing we should discuss is the remnants of the Witch's army."

Peter took this as his cue to speak and he cleared his throat. "We have patrols scouting the forests and rooting out the very last of her sects, but progress is slow. The dwarves were all loyal to her, and it would seem they have fled to the underground with the rest of her followers."

"If that happened in our country, we would smoke them out, one by one." Coughs of agreement sounded from all around her and Elsa knew she had to say something.

"Genocide is not the answer here. Narnia was not built on violence and murder." Her voice was timid at first, but it grew stronger. "You would suggest sacrificing our humanity to unite the country?"

"Underland is filled with barbaric scum. The country would be better rid of it. And if Narnia won't take care of it, then you leave the Tisroc (May he live forever) no choice."

"I agree with Lady Markham, mass extermination is not an option. We are all diplomats, representatives of our countries. How would it speak to our people if we were to authorize such an act?" King Lune voiced his opinion, which seemed to have settled the feathers of the ruffled diplomats.

"Then tell, what other alternative could there be?"

There was silence across the table before one brave voice broke the quiet. "Occupation." The voice was decidedly timid. Moments passed and Elsa felt Peter tense up beside her. Reaching her hand down discreetly, she placed it on his leg, rubbing it gently to show support for him.

"I'm not sending good men to their deaths." Peter's voice was sure and steady and it echoed off the painted ceilings.

"We could offer the ones willing to come forth amnesty." Elsa, ever the peace keeper spoke again and the room seemed to cling on her every word. "They will come back up to the surface if they have no fear of retribution from the monarchy."

"Amnesty in exchange for what?"

Elsa quieted and was pleased when one of the Tisroc's (May he live forever) diplomats spoke up. "Information on the whereabouts of the rest of them."

"Then we place them in a work program. Villages and houses were destroyed during the reign of the White Witch and although we are making strides trying to repair everything, we lack the man power." Peter sat back in his chair comfortably, listening to the various small chatter around the room. Beside him, Elsa seemed pleased with Peter's instinctive strategical skills.

The room hummed with positive energy, everyone seemed perfectly happy with this plan.

"Now that we have that settled, intelligence reports suggest the giants in Ettinsmoor are preparing for a full assault. If we hope to protect ourselves, we need to have the upper hand." And just like that, the meeting droned on into matters that Elsa could not understand.

True, she had been in Narnia for quite some time, but there were things that Peter didn't think it appropriate for her to be involved in. 'Sheltered here, and sheltered back at home.' Elsa listened to the goings on around her until conversation dwindled down into small pockets of side talk.

Time passed in the chamber with the deliberating delegation and before Elsa knew it, afternoon had come and Peter's stomach had been growling for the better part of an hour.

"I think we should wrap this up for today. We've done enough." King Lune had gotten less jolly and a tired tone had taken up residence in his throat.

Everyone seemed to agree with this and when Elsa stood up, her joints creaked with protest.

"I don't know about you, but I am famished." They linked arms in their own familiar fashion and began walking back to their shared quarters. Suddenly, Peter's steps slowed and Elsa tilted her head slightly, listening to the footsteps come closer to her.

"My Liege, I am Barov, a diplomat from Calormene. I bid you greetings from the Tisroc (May he live forever). Barov bowed respectfully and Elsa felt a hand on hers and a brush of unfamiliar lips across her knuckles.

"I don't believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance."

"May I introduce you to the Lady Elsa Markham," Elsa noted that he hadn't said anything on his intentions with Elsa and she feared that Barov may get the wrong idea.

"Your name is suiting to your beauty. Never in all my years have I seen another woman of your beauty."

Elsa's cheeks stained red and she pulled her hand delicately from his grasp. "I thank you Barov. You are very kind."

Peter tensed up underneath her grip and she squeezed his arm discreetly.

"Might I show you around the castle? I can't imagine you will have seen much of it yet. The gardens are beautiful this time of day."

Elsa wrinkled her nose at his offer and she shook her head. "I thank you again for your offer, but such beauty would be wasted on me."

Barov was silent for a minute before he bowed again muttering "My apologies, I did not realize." Quickened footsteps sounded further and further away and Elsa chuckled, rubbing Peter's arm.

"That was interesting."

"You could have gone with him." Peter spoke slowly, as if he was doubting his own words.

Elsa's lips flattened into a line and she turned to face him, her gaze settling somewhere above his left shoulder. " Haven't you figured it out by now? Besides, he was being a total boar."

"It was rather thick of him." Peter agreed and started again towards their rooms.

"Besides, I can't have you thinking poorly of me."

"I could never think poorly of you."

Elsa laughed. "You say that now."

"I say it now, just as I will for the rest of our lives together."

Elsa stopped, her heart thudding in her chest. She had an inkling that this was coming, and she swallowed around the knot that had formed in her throat. "Together?"

It was as if Peter himself hadn't realized what he said. It was true, he did intend to spend the rest of his life with her. But how to go about it? He didn't know a single thing about marriage. It didn't matter. Whatever it would take. If it required he swim an endless sea and traverse the stars and time itself, he would be with her.

Elsa was having much the same conversation inside her own head. Aslan had told her she had a purpose here. What if part of that purpose was to wed Peter? She would certainly be happy with him. But she also knew Peter's penchant to speak before he thought about it.

"I mean, well you know what I mean." Peter was sheepish, and thankful that Elsa couldn't see the scarlet blush that covered his cheeks.

"Of course." Elsa gave an odd, sort of awkward laugh and the trek back to their rooms was passed in complete silence that neither seemed comfortable with breaking.

They parted in the seating room, each going to their respective balconies for some well deserved time alone with their own thoughts.

It's the fall of 1931, Elsa is eight years old and is very anxious. The leaves left the trees weeks ago, leaving tall, dormant, and barren skeletons in their place. The whole of Austria is in that odd place between the beautiful colors of fall, and the purest of snowfalls that come with winter. The ground is frozen outside, and the temperature has plummeted.

Inside isn't much better. Suzanne has taken to tiptoeing around the house in her ballet slippers, showcasing her still developing ballerina's poise. They had been taking lessons for a couple of years now, and the girls had progressed equally, or so the teacher said. Elsa knew that Suzanne had eclipsed her younger twins ability a long time ago. Suzanne was built better for ballet, to dance in the limelight. Elsa thinks someday Suzanne will dance on a large stage to a full, swelling symphony with a spotlight trailing her graceful moves. Every so often, Suzanne's eyes will trail towards the wings where her sister, a simple chorus girl waits in the wings with the rest of the line dancers. 

Suzanne may be a skilled dancer, but Elsa by far has the higher marks in school. Her attentiveness for detail suits her well, and her teachers are all pleased with her progress. Elsa is glad for something that doesn't make her dance in her sisters shadow. 

Standing up, she walks towards the door, grabbing her coat and her mittens. Elsa is very nearly out the door when a clearing throat makes her jump and turn her gaze towards her mother. 

“Edelweiss, where are you going?” 

“Just out for a walk, mutter.” 

Joan stares for a while out the window before nodding, waving her hand towards the door. “Be back before dark my dear.” 

Elsa practically jumps out the front door and pounds down the porch steps and into the tiny yard. Kicking the frozen dirt around with her toe, she looks up into the empty sky. It's a dull gray color, not at all like the free and wild blue she is accustomed to seeing. Her breath comes out in white wisps from her chilled lips. Looking around, the neighborhood is relatively quiet. The only other person outside is the neighbor whom she hadn't met yet. 

Very little is known about her neighbors. They are a small family who mostly keep to themselves. Elsa doesn't want to pry into his business, but she is very bored and the intriguing neighbor might provide some much needed respite from her over achieving twin sister. 

Resolving herself, she walks to the edge of the yard and peers over at the porch with inquisitive eyes. 

“Hello there, I don't think we have met.” The stranger acknowledges her as if he had been waiting for her to approach the fence. 

Elsa shakes her head no and continues to stare at the mysterious man on the porch. He is a thin man with well trimmed hair and a neat beard. She notices the simple wedding ring on his finger, not unlike her fathers and she files it away mentally. 

“I am Avram Vandermeckis, are you Suzanne, or Elsa?” 

“Suzanne is my sister.” 

The man sighs with an undertone of understanding and smiles. “We have only just moved here. I have a daughter about your age.” 

Elsa quirked her head sideways. She never made friends easy, because she was always with Suzanne. Even though they didn't always get along, it was difficult to reach beyond what was so familiar to her. 

“Your hat isn't big enough to cover your ears. Aren't you cold?” Elsa points to the tiny cap on the back of his head and the man chuckles, adjusting it with his hands. 

“This is a very special hat called a yarnmulke” 

Elsa loved to learn. It was the only thing that allowed her to keep up with her naturally talented twin sister. It didn't even occur to her to mistrust the man sitting on his porch patting the seat next to him. 

She wanted to learn everything about him, so she did. 

That afternoon spent on the neighbors porch was the first of many, and it stood out in her mind years later when she stood on a much different wooden deck. The wood wasn't splintered, the paint would not be worn by time or glasses of lemonade left to sit in the afternoon sun. The seating isn't lumpy and well loved; her favorite spot just doesn't feel right to her. 

Nothing about her current residence feels right to her. The hallways are a twisting nightmare and the stairwells feel like caverns. She misses the close familiarity of Cair Paravel. Elsa misses the way Lucy would bound into her room, her being exuding pure energy. She missed the motherly attentions of the cook, who insisted that she didn't eat enough. 

Elsa even found herself missing Edmund's broody nature and nosiness. When she thought about it, she supposes that in nearly every way, her and Edmund are the same. And in that regard, she finds a new respect for him. 

None of these epiphanies help her with her current quandary. Peter hasn't proposed yet, but she knows, feels that that is the course their relationship is taking. 

Elsa would tell him yes, a thousand times yes in a heartbeat. She yearns to spend the rest of her life with the wonderful, kind young man she has come to love. 

She is resolved. Elsa knows her heart, and she knows this is right. 

On his own balcony, Peter is having an internal battle with himself. He has never been involved with a woman, certainly not one like this. He doesn't know how to act around her, or even where his feet are. His entire world it seems revolves around her, and her happiness. 

He remembers his parents, and how they were with each other. Peter can recall nights spent 'round the radio, wrapped in blankets and hanging on every word from the war front. 

One particular night stands out to him. 

He is just shy of thirteen, and is finishing up the washing in the kitchen with his mother. Well, she is washing. Peter has a dishcloth in his hand and is rubbing away the water from the dishes, setting them methodically inside a rack on the counter. 

From the other room, he can hear the spark of a match and the telltale squeaking of Dad's chair. After a particularly grueling day at work, or if he needed to think, Andrew Pevensie would light up his pipe and sit in his favorite wingbacked chair. 

The scent of tobacco filled the house more nights than it didn't and Peter knew something was coming.

“Pete, I'll finish up. You and your siblings go into the front room. Your dad and I have something we need to talk about.” 

The last talk in the front room had resulted in unilateral grounding of the four. Peter denies to this day that he had anything to do with his mum's flower patch, but she knows better. 

Obeying his mother, Peter leaves the dish towel on the side of the counter and strides into the room, sitting next to Lucy and Edmund. 

“Do you think we are gonna get grounded again?” Lucy's small voice reaches his ear and Peter shrugs his shoulders. 

“I haven't done anything recently to warrant a grounding.” His eye wanders towards Edmund, who instantly turns on his older brother. 

“Are you seriously going to blame that on me? Dad!”

Andrew looked down from his chair at his two bickering sons and he clears his throat. 

“This little pow-wow isn't about what you have done. It is about what I have to do.” 

The four children are silent at this, and their attentions are undivided. 

“Lu, do you remember when the neighbor girl stole your doll?” Lucy nods. 

“Do you remember what you had to do?”

“I had to go get her back! Phyllis Dillingham had her in the wrong clothes!” 

“You had to go rescue her, didn't you?” The little girl nods fervently, but doesn't understand yet what this has to do with anything. 

“She did something that was bad, and she got punished.” Lucy grinned at this, thinking lovingly of the doll that sat on her shelf.

“I have to go face someone who has done something wrong.”

“Did they take something from you, Daddy?” Lucy misses the tears streaming down Susan's face, or the way Peter moved to comfort her. 

“Not me pet. The Germans have done something very wrong, and they need to be put into place.”

Lucy smiles and climbs into her fathers lap. “You're really good at that, it shouldn't take too long.” Andrew puts his pipe out and sets it on the table, sitting back with Lucy in his lap.

Peter's voice is quiet when he speaks “You can't.” 

“Peter, it's the right thing to do. We won't win this if some of us don't go off to fight it.” 

“What if you-?” Susan can't even speak, and Edmund had left the room already, slamming the bedroom door behind him. 

Lucy has finally realized what is happening and she looks up at her father in horror. “You don't love us anymore?” Fat tears are streaking down her face and she chokes back a sob.

Andrew's arms wrap around his youngest child and he kisses her forehead. “It is because I love you that I have to leave. Our boys on the front line need all the help they can get.” 

“You'll come back? You have to. I'll be sore if you don't.” Lucy is wiping her eyes with the corner of her sweater and she can't even look at him now. 

“I will come back to you all if it takes everything I have left. I promise. Now, you three get on up to bed. It's late.” 

The children clear out of the room and Peter hangs by the fringes on the stairs, peeking down at the scene unfolding.

It was the way that Andrew Pevensie clung to his wife after he thought his children had left the room to console each other. His arms wrapped around her waist and his head buried itself in her curled hair. She is sobbing, unhinged by the idea of her husband never coming home. 

His lips capture hers in a fevered attempt to calm her, and it works. 

Peter climbs the rest of the stairs, unable to take any more. 

Years later, Peter looks out on unfamiliar woods and contemplates the day his father told him he would go off to war. 

The giants were gearing up for a multi-fronted war. It would be his duty to lead the Narnian army, and he could not back down. 

He could see the signs, they were all clear as day. Peter would have to leave his family the way his own father did. 

He couldn't bear to see Lucy like that again. Edmund would understand, and would most likely want to come along.

Susan would understand, she would worry, but she would understand. 

Elsa would be the very hardest to leave behind. Peter didn't think he would be able to handle not seeing her for months on end. 

He decided not to dwell on it now. Such actions were years off, he was certain. He would not have to worry for a while. 

Breathing in deep the fresh air, he walked back through his rooms and through the adjoining sitting room, pausing for a moment at the threshold to Elsa's bedroom. The door was open, and he could see her pacing back and forth on the balcony before sitting down somewhere outside his view. 

She jumps when he sits down next to her and puts a hand on hers. 

“Oh!” She puts a hand over her mouth, laughing into her palm. “I suppose I was somewhere else. I didn't even hear you come up.” 

Peter grins, pulling her hand up and laying a gentle kiss onto her fingers. “I wanted to gauge your reaction. I've never scared you before.”

“On the contrary, you have scared me plenty of times.” 

Peter grins, shifting in his seat to look at her. “You should count yourself lucky you can't see my face. You would run for the hills.” 

Elsa laughed out loud at this, turning to face him. Her gaze settled somewhere in the hollow of his throat when she spoke. “Even if you were ugly which I doubt you are, I wouldn't care. I love you.” The words tumble from her lips and she realizes that this is the first time she has actually said it.

She would give anything to see his face in this moment. 

Peter didn't have to think about his next move. He thrust his lips on hers in an instant, their beings coalescing into one singular moving being. Hands wove through hair and wandered over hips, leaving a trail of tingling skin and goosebumps. 

When at last their lips parted, their breaths came in rushed, as if they had been underwater. Peter nudged her nose with his, pressing kiss after kiss onto her lips. 

Peter wanted to live in this moment. He would remember the way her blind eyes lit up in the afternoon sun as she declared her love for him. 

When he was dead, they would find those words etched onto his heart and flowing through his veins. 

This marked the beginning of the rest of his life, and he welcomed it with open arms.


	9. Chapter 9

Elsa knows right away that she is dreaming. The normal black cloak that usually shrouds her vision had receded, giving way to a gray, decaying countryside. There is no weather here, no sun, or moon. She thinks there is a breeze, for a moment. It is then that Elsa realizes she is the one moving. Dark hands reach for her beyond the cusp of the limited vision she still has inside her dreams and as she runs along a path strewn with ash and stone, she can't get far enough away. Skeletal, bony fingers reach for her, unattached to any kind of body or form and a cackling in the distance makes her shrink a little bit.

The sky is a disturbing shade of green, polluted further by smokestacks spewing gray smog into the air. The scene looks strange to her, but she doesn't remember quite how the sky should really look. There should be more than this, she reasons. Memories that she can pull from should aid her to discern the odd scene unfolding before her. But all she can remember is the fear, and the seemingly endless running.

Looking down, she finds her feet are bare, bloody, and covered in soot. Crimson footprints are slowly being erased by the ever present falling gray, almost snowflakes. Averting her eyes forward, she continues to run as if it's completely normal. Elsa swears she can feel the thrum of human life running beside her. But when she looks around, shadows dance around her, filling the space where the living should be. Voices whisper beside her and teeth chatter from the bone chilling cold, but no refuge or reason is found for any of it. 

She is at a dead run now, but still doesn't know what she is running from. Nothing but a few shanties are behind her and ahead of her sits a tiny, inconspicuous cottage cut into a hill. 

When at last she stops, she finds herself in a tiny room. Shower heads hang from the ceiling and the floor beneath her is pock marked with drainage holes. Minute scrapings on the walls indicate something more sinister happens here. As she scrutinizes the area around her further, not a speck of water is hanging from the shower heads or lingering in the unreached corners of the room. The air is completely dry, void of any moisture. Something just isn't quite right.

The room begins to shift around her in first unnoticed ways. The pitch of the ceiling changes, the tiling beneath her disappears leaving bare flagstone. An engine starts up just outside, followed by a second. As the realization hits her, she whips towards the door, only to find a wall where none should exist. Panic swells inside her as she looks around the windowless and now door-less room. In an instant, green gas is filtered in through the shower heads. A quiet, keening moan is heard, until it crescendos into a loud, teeth gnashing wail that drowns out the revving engines. The sound reverberates off of the now gore drenched walls and drowns out the unnerving music in the background. 

It takes her a moment to realize the screaming is coming from her, and that she is completely alone. 

The dream doesn't abruptly end like she is used to. The darkness closes in on her first, and she feels the bed beneath her and the satin sheets that are in a jumbled mess around her ankles. The constriction of her throat conceals the silent sobs that are erupting from her, and she is grateful. Gathering her knees to her chest, she rocks slowly on the bed, burying her face in her knees. Elsa doesn't have the energy to mentally process what just happened. Reverting back to basic instinct, she quells the discord inside her and waits for the thrumming of her heart to slow and the smell of the gas to clear from her nose.

Sleep won't come the rest of the night, and when dawn finally breaks, it finds her on the balcony outside, her eyes red rimmed and bloodshot. Elsa had taken refuge in the deep cushioned chair on the deck, her feet tucked underneath her. Minute shivering started hours ago, or maybe didn't really stop after she shook the final tendrils of the nightmare. 

She knows that she needs to collect herself soon before Lana walks in and finds her in such a state, but she can't be bothered to move. 

After an indiscernible amount of time passes, footsteps inside the room sound closer and closer to her current hiding spot, but she makes no attempt to clean herself up. 

The light footsteps don't belong to Peter, and there is only one person who attends her rooms. The light aroma of coffee wraps around her and she hears Lana's soft voice calling her name. 

“Outside.” Her throat feels like it's coated with sandpaper and nails, but it's not totally unexpected. 

“Miss? My my, you look awful.” Lana pulls Elsa from the chair she had holed herself up in for the better part of a night and even Elsa is surprised when her knees wobble for a moment. “What happened to you?” Elsa leans on Lana as the handmaiden leads her back into the bedroom and towards the dressing screen. 

Elsa ponders telling Lana what had happened during the night, but decides that the succinct truth would suffice. “Couldn't sleep,” is the excuse she gives. In retrospect it isn't the best white lie, but it would have to do. 

Lana hums under her breath, the tone vague. Elsa doesn't know if the hum was in agreement, or if she didn't believe her. 

Deciding that she doesn't care, she strips down and pulls on her clothing for the day, emerging when she needed help with the clasps. The morning progresses much like yesterday had. Lana sat Elsa down on a chair, sitting across from her. Lana had spread the makeup across her lap and the pair lapsed into comfortable silence. 

It wasn't until Elsa realized that Lana had applied far more rouge than was customary that she said anything. 

“That's a bit more than usual, isn't it?” 

“Today, no. Trust me, Elsa.” 

“Do I look that bad?” Elsa bites her lip in nervousness. It had crossed her mind that morning a few times that she felt haggard, but the appearance didn't strike her till now. 

“Rather pale and red eyed, I'm afraid. Must have been quite the nightmare to upset you so much.” Lana said it offhandedly, as if it was the most obvious thing. 

Elsa doesn't know what else to say and she bites her lip, her blind eyes downcast. “Terrifying. How did you know?” 

“Just a guess, miss. What other reason could there be for a sleepless night?” Lana moves to brush out Elsa's curls and she swallows hard, her thoughts straying back to the dark recesses of her mind. 

Breakfast comes sooner than usual that morning and Elsa sits back into her chair, her fingers curled around a cup of coffee. 

When Peter finally shows up, she can tell that something is amiss. His footsteps hesitate at the door for a moment before continuing on towards the table. 

“Good morning.” His greeting is cheerful as he sits next to her and plants a kiss on her cheek. Elsa manages a smile in his direction and picks absentmindedly at her toast. The few bits of toast she had eaten is sitting in her stomach like a stone and she sits back into her seat. 

After a few minutes of silence, Peter seems to pick up on Elsa's mood. “Is something wrong?” 

“Not a thing, dear.” The smile that Elsa manages is forced, and Peter picks up on the goosebumps on her arm. He meets her eyes and finds something foreign residing in her storm gray eyes. Not quite terror, but something that he could not recognize had wound itself around her.

“If you insist.” Peter doesn't seem to believe her, but at least he isn't asking questions. 

They were early today to the far end of the castle with the delegation. The scent of vellum and ink assaults her the moment they step into the large chamber and Elsa is relieved when Peter puts her palm on the back of her chair. 

Peter relaxes in one of the many comfortable chairs that surround the high polished wooden table. Diplomats and dignitaries had been steadily trickling in from the many countries, territories and independent states that played neighbor to the hosting castle. Many of them looked fresh from a good nights sleep and pampered by the hosts good will. A few of them looked much like his head of security; lagging from a rough night with a flask and bad memories. 

Stirring him from his thoughts, the six diplomats from Calormene marched in like a phalanx and sat opposite him. Stealing a glance over at Elsa, he noticed her eyes had slipped shut and her breathing was deep. Not asleep, meditating. 

So it had been a rough night for her. 

He had heard stirring from somewhere in the castle's many apartments, but chalked it up to nervousness from falling asleep in a foreign place. Stupid, stupid Peter berates himself. He should have checked up on her. 

The men from Calormene are gazing across the table now; their gazes collectively settling on the woman across the table. 

Peter watches in amusement as her eyes open and instantly narrow and the six pairs of eyes scatter across the room. Disguising his chuckle as a cough, he sits back in his chair, a pleased smile on his face. 

“Did I just miss something?” The question rides on low tones and she leans over to him, her ear next to his lips. 

“Just watching those men across the table try to catch your eye.” 

A sly smile crossed her features and she flicked her eyes in their direction. “Well then, this should be fun.” 

King Lune strode into the room not moments later and the great doors he had come through shut behind him with a quiet click. Chairs were straightened, throats were being cleared and parchment was being ruffled to prepare for the long meeting. 

“Good morning, all! I trust you all had a restful night?” The question was rhetorical in nature and left no room for discussion as the portly king took his place at the head of the table. 

“Where did we leave off yesterday?” 

A moment passed while the scribe in the corner straightened his papers. “Diplomatic solutions to the Ettinsmoor problem.” The scribe spoke in a small, almost mousy voice that barely broke over the din of the large room. 

“If you would allow me to have the floor,” The person directly to her right hand side sat forward in his chair, preparing to speak. “I believe this is first and foremost, another Narnian problem.” 

Noises of agreement were made around the table and Elsa sat stock still in her chair. She could tell Peter was fuming beside her. 

“Another Narnian problem? Just where do you think they will go after they rampage through Narnia? Don't think they will just stop at Cair Paravel.” 

“They will if the Tisroc (May he live forever) commands it.” The syrupy sweet voice of one of the Calormene diplomats made Elsa's blood run cold. 

“We will not be threatened like this.” Elsa's voice was low and stern as she reprimanded the gathering of diplomats. “If the inhabitants of Ettinsmoor wish to fight, then we will fight. With or without the Tisroc's help.” 

“We wouldn't advise that, missy. Your country has just overcome civil war. You are still divided. How do you expect to overcome an army of giants?” 

Elsa is brought back to that porch swing with Avram and she remembers candidly the story of David. He overcame a single giant with a slingshot and a stone. Perhaps the Narnian army could take a chapter out of his book. 

“With Aslan's blessing.” Peter speaks for her, effectively silencing the chamber. “We may have only just come out the other side of civil war, but we are stronger for it.” 

“I agree. Besides, Idle threats to our allies aren't to be taken lightly.” King Lune speaks here, his words pointed towards the Calormene men. “Should Narnia find itself in over it's head, Archenland is more than happy to lend a hand.” 

“Idealists! The lot of you!” One of the diplomats stand up abruptly, his char flung backwards from the force. “We must approach this with a diplomatic solution. War will not be the answer here.” 

“Are you serious? They have increased their numbers and have begun to train. They have made clear their intentions.” Peter spat, his open palm smacking the table for emphasis.

“Hear me out. Your sister, Queen Susan will be approaching the age where she must take a husband-”

“Absolutely not. Queen Susan is not present. I will not discus her affairs without her knowledge.” 

“Fine, fine.” The diplomat held his hands up in surrender, then turned his gaze towards Elsa. “Lets say another woman of court, Lady Markham perhaps. We offer her as a gesture of goodwill to unite the lands.” His voice was cold, and calculating as he offered the solution up for debate.

Elsa felt her throat constrict, not for the first time that day. “Peter, I couldn't.” 

“Now there's an idea!” King Lune was ready to back this plan wholeheartedly as he looked towards the Narnian king and the current topic of conversation. 

“There has to be another way. I will not ask that of her. Those giants are brutal, and will not take kindly to that kind of offering.” Peter's hand discreetly made contact with her hand and he rubbed small circles into her palm, offering comfort.

“Beauty such as hers can soothe even the most hardened of hearts.” It seemed the whole room now was in agreement with the crazy plan and Elsa lowered her eyes. 

“No.” Her voice was soft as she voiced her dissent. “I will not become dinner for those monsters. Furthermore, I am not an object to be traded.” 

“Such impudence. King Peter, you allow this to go on? Our women know their place, and they do what they are told without argument, or question.”

“We don't own our women. They are free to make their own choices.” 

“Such anarchy. No wonder Narnia is so prone to civil conflicts.” 

“Enough!” King Lune's voice silenced the argument then and there and he gave a stern look to the Calormene diplomats. “You shame the Tisroc with your words.” 

“How were we supposed to know their customs? She is on his arm consistently. To us, it looked like ownership.” The head diplomat shrugs his shoulders, but his tone further eggs on the high king.

“I lead her, it's called being polite.” 

“Lead her? She isn't capable of finding her own way?” 

Elsa smirked and turned towards King lune, her eyebrow raising. “King Lune, these diplomats might just be blinder than I am.” 

King lune let out a chuckle and turned an eye towards the Calormene diplomats who were all now speechless. 

“Well, it's good to know it isn't that obvious anymore. Smashing job, Peter.” Elsa sits back in her chair, a smirk of satisfaction overcoming her. 

“Very well, now that we have the opening insults out of the way, can we please move on?” One voice which had not weighed in at all yet spoke from the far end of the table. Elsa recognizes the accent as belonging to the inhabitants of the Lone Islands, but it isn't Amele or Greigor. 

“Very good.” King Lune clears his throat and looks around the table before beginning again.

Elsa nearly collapses onto the sofa in the sitting room, her tired eyes slipping shut. Today had been far too long, she decides. Throwing a hand over her eyes, she breathes in deeply. So wrapped up in her exhaustion, she hadn't even noticed when Peter had sat down beside her. 

“Tired?” His voice startled her and she gave a gasp, wide eyed and searching for a moment before she felt a hand on her thigh. 

Elsa nods, a loud yawn escaping her throat. “Couldn't sleep.” She's finding it easier and easier to deny that the nightmare had ever happened. 

“Did something happen last night?” The question isn't rhetorical like Elsa had hoped. The tone in Peter's voice left room for an explanation on her part and she felt a stirring inside her. 

“No, of course not. I just couldn't sleep.” She brushes off the intrusive question with light laughter and a bright smile. 

Peter feels assuaged a bit when he takes in her sunny countenance. He also remembers her growing skill of deception when it suits her. He leans over and places a gentle kiss on her cheek and whispers gently into her ear. “When you decide to tell me what's wrong, I'll be listening.”

Elsa can't bring herself to drag him into her nightmare, so she listens to his footsteps retreat into his set of rooms with a heavy soul. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she turns sideways on the couch and sits deep into the cushions. Her mind is scattered, and she feels exhaustion pulling on her mental strings. She doesn't feel the gentle tendrils of sleep tugging on her until the faint sensation of spinning registers on the back burners of her mind.

Elsa finds herself running along the same dirty path that she was on some time ago. Ash seems to float in the air around her and she forces her feet to stop moving beneath her. The entropy breaks, and the following calm steadies her scattered thoughts and panicked mind. She knows that she has been here before. Elsa remembers running along this same path what seems like eons ago. The same terrifying dread sits like a heavy cloud around her and no matter what rationale she applies, it does not abate. 

In what seems like an instant, angry yelling assaults her from all sides and she feels a rifle sweep her feet out from under her and force her to her knees. Sharp rocks dig into her bony knees and she looks down at her skeletal frame. The endless hunger had subsided long ago and is replaced by a distant thrum in her core. It is something that she has reconciled with, but she cannot remember why. 

Elsa cannot recall the events that have led up to her kneeling in the middle of a gravel road in the countryside. On some level, this should register with strange. Elsa has had experience with controlling her dreams, but this isn't one of those dreams. She reels for the control that she is so familiar with, but it continues to slip further and further away from her. 

Looking up, she finds she is surrounded on all sides by uniformed men, each bearing a cynical, twisted smile. Gray overcoats are left unbuttoned and do little to conceal the various weapons that are strapped to their belts. The troops themselves are a far cry from human now. What had started out as merely following orders had gnawed into a lifestyle that fed on killing others. Elsa sensed the death that hung on each of them, and what little humanity they had left was neglected for the thrill of taking a life.

Summoning her courage, she looks up into black pools of swirling hatred. She remembers seeing these eyes somewhere but her fear addled mind can come up with little explanation. Dry lips peel back to reveal gleaming teeth arranged in a sinister smile and Elsa can't breathe. 

“I remember you. This time, I won't miss.” The voice is new, but the rigid posture and the distinct chill behind his blue eyes evokes a memory inside of her. 

The butt of a revolver is pressed against her temple, it's muzzle leaving black marks across her pale skin. Was this the same revolver that took the life of her twin? Did a bullet much like the one sitting in the chamber pierce the skin between her eyes? The seconds tick by like epochs, punctuated by a howling wind and a distant train passing on some tracks. Elsa bows her head and waits for death. It is inevitable now. Any knowledge that this was a dream had fled along with her better senses some time ago. 

Far off in her mind, she remembers almost nothing of her former life with her family. The one memory that sticks is the afternoon in the sunlit glen. The edelweiss is soft against her skin and a wild blue sky is reflected in her twin sisters steel gray eyes. It is one of the only memories she holds of her that don't evoke a sense of guilt, and she clings to it like a life preserver in an ocean. Smiling, she looks up one last time and she hears a snicker before the discharging of a gun. 

Elsa comes to with the carpeted floor beneath her. She is sure there is a knot on her head where it struck against the floor, but it isn't her first concern. Her gown is twisted underneath her and her hair is mussed from the rough minutes of sleep. The memory of her family is still fading. All except for Suzanne. Her sisters raven hair swings carelessly behind her in the breeze of a sweet afternoon as the girls pick apples at their grandmothers house. A lifetime of memories blink in front of her minds eye and she shakes her head to clear the nostalgia. 

She feels a cold breeze whip through the room from the open doors and the smell of a storm rides on the cold wind. Getting to her feet, she shuts the doors against the draft and rubs her arms. Elsa knows that logically, there is absolutely no reason why she is enduring these strange dreams. She has never before experienced any of those things, so it is unlikely that she had made them up, and more unlikely still that they have any bearing on the real world. 

Breathing deeply, she makes her way into her rooms and wanders towards the washing basin. Her fumbling, shaking hands eventually find the stack of towels and she dips one into the cool water before bringing it to her face. The kohl liner stings her eyes, but she ignores it and continues to scrub at her face, a mix of emotion running unchecked through her system. 

When at last the stinging abates, she wrings the excess moisture out of the cloth before setting it aside. She blots her face dry with another towel, wiping away stray tears and water with careful swipes. 

A low rumbling from outside shakes her for a moment and she puts the towel down, making her way towards the balcony door. The air outside is churning with electricity and the damp air that floods into her lungs alerts her to a coming storm. Elsa backs slowly inside, closing the doors but leaving the curtains open. 

Setting herself in a wing backed chair facing the doors, she lets her thoughts run stray. The fabric underneath her wandering fingers is soft, and patterned. Threads here and there have pulled loose from the winding design, and in her pursuit to discover more, she begins to lose track of the hour. The afternoon drifts away and before she knows it, evening has ensconced the castle and Lana's light perfume wafts into the main room. A tea tray clinks lightly in the offbeats of her steps and Elsa rouses herself from the state of unknowing she had found herself in. 

“I've brought tea, miss.” Lana's voice is soft as she sets it on the table in front of her. “It's nearly time to get ready for dinner. Have you rested any today?” 

Elsa manages a quiet “No, not really” and runs a hand through her wayward curls. 

“I can have dinner sent up, if you don't feel up to going down.” 

Elsa thinks about it for a minute before shaking her head no. It would do her little good to skip the socialization, especially with Peter's growing curiosity surrounding her sleepless nights. 

The tea that she swallows goes down tastelessly, which isn't unusual for the pattern of her day when she thinks on it. Taking deep, even breaths Elsa listens to the sound of her handmaiden flitting around her rooms, drawing a bath and preparing her gown for the evening. Elsa is worlds away as she is readied for dinner, and it doesn't even register when cold water is poured over her head, or when a particularly difficult knot is brushed from her still drying curls. 

The evening passes by in a blur and before she knows it, she is tripping into the sitting room. The rug had bunched up underneath her feet and she is dazed as she catches herself on the back of a chair. Peter's hands are on her shoulders now, steadying her. 

“Are you okay?” Peter is doing a rather poor job of holding back his laughter as he lets his hands slide down her arms.

Elsa grins, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “Yes, I'm fine. It just surprised me is all.” 

“I would tell you to watch where you are going...” Peter trails off and she quirks an unamused eyebrow in his direction, a contradicting smirk spreading on her face. 

“Just take me to dinner, you obnoxious man.” 

“Obnoxious, am I?” Elsa can hear the open mouthed laugh in his voice and she links arms with him. 

“Yes, you know you are.” Elsa reaches up on her toes and kisses the side of his mouth. “But I'm fine with that.” 

“As long as you know what you are getting yourself into.” The pair exits their apartment and walks at a leisurely pace down the corridors leading to the dining hall. 

“I don't think what I'm getting myself into is the primary concern here. Lets face it Peter. I'm kind of a handful.”

“I prefer to think of you as exciting.” Peter steps down first, alerting her to the stairs and she adjusts her steps accordingly.

“Oddly enough, I never thought of it like that.” She takes time to walk down the stairs so she doesn't make a scene of herself and when they reach the cavernous landing with the grandfather clock, Peter stops her for a moment. 

“Now, no tripping on the way down.” 

Elsa laughs, her grip tightening on his bicep. “If I do trip, I'll take you down with me.”

“I'd love to see you try.” They start again down the remainder of the stairs and the chatter from the dining hall reaches their ears. 

“Sounds like we're late, as always.”

“If you didn't insist on taking so long getting ready.” Peter is only kidding, but it annoys Elsa nonetheless. 

“Oh, blame me. That's always your answer.” 

“Not always.” His voice is low and husky in her ear as the pair enters the dining hall. 

Elsa and Peter sit at the far side of the table, sandwiched between the diplomats from Calormene. She feels his form stiffen in the chair beside her and she fixes her gray eyes on the table in front of her. 

“Lady Markham, isn't it?” The voice on her right addresses her and she nods, turning her head towards the voice. 

“Yes. I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

“My name is Sikh, I believe my associate Barov spoke with you briefly a few days ago.” Elsa nods, remembering the strange encounter. 

“Yes, It wasn't the best of introductions.” 

Sikh laughs at this, sitting back in his chair. “Barov isn't a prime example of our collective efforts to get to know our neighbors.” 

Whatever questions she had for him were silenced when the waiters came up from the first course. 

Elsa heard the plate being set down in front of her and she heard Peter whisper under his breath, “Salad.” 

Elsa chuckles, turning her head slightly towards him. “I can smell that, yes.” 

To her right, Sikh has dug into his salad full force. She can hear his jaws snapping around the crunchy leaves and she flinches from the sound. 

She fumbles for a moment before her hand finds the proper fork and she spears a piece of salad, holding it up to her nose for a moment. Detecting no abnormality, she takes a bite and is pleased at the taste. 

“The greens are just phenomenal.”

Beside her, Peter is picking at his own dinner. His fork chases grape tomatoes and croutons until the plate is whisked away and replaced by a simmering bowl of soup. He watches Elsa's nose wrinkle up at the slurping noises many of the people beside her are making and he stifles a laugh. “Aren't you going to try any?” 

“I don't want to risk getting it anywhere on me.” She whispers it, as if she is embarrassed. True to his suspicions, her cheeks are stained scarlet and she reaches for her water goblet. 

Peter nods. He knew this was a valid fear of hers. She never ate or drank anything that could cause a serious mess. 

The men around him have eased into small pockets of chatter, but his companion remains quiet. He knows that there is something weighing heavy on her mind. Her reluctance to share it worries him, but there doesn't seem to be anything he can do about it. 

Dinner wears on and the end of it finds many of the dignitaries, diplomats and members of court exiting the dining hall at scattered intervals. Some are headed to the study for brandy and a cigar. Others are heading out to the gardens to catch some air, but the rain that has been pounding at the castle makes the last option seem a bit thick. 

Elsa gives him the signal and he stands from his seat, catching her hand with his. Peter doesn't mention that she had barely eaten, she wouldn't even dignify it with a response. She goes through phases like this, and eventually she will come out the other side. Peter just needs to be supportive of her, as there is little else he can do. 

The pair makes their way back up to their chambers in relative silence and when they part in the sitting room, Peter can tell she is worlds away. 

“Goodnight Elsa.” 

She smiles, kissing his cheek. “Goodnight dear.” 

Sleep that night is difficult, as it was the night previous. Elsa lays in bed for some time until she finally drifts into unconsciousness. 

Elsa is standing in a line at attention. Above her, the clouds have blotted out the yellow sun and bring with them the threat of colder weather and her already exposed body cannot handle much more. Beside her, emaciated women stand shoulder to shoulder. Everyone is bald, everyone is shivering, and everyone has a curious tattoo on their forearm. 

She hasn't the time to examine her own before the barking of orders sounds in her ear. As if her body is running on automatic, she finds herself yelling 'Here!'. Number sequences are yelled out and followed by another voice yelling 'Here!' until someone doesn't answer. 

Elsa doesn't dare look around to see who hasn't answered and she sees the officers gather in a circle and talk in low tones for a moment before they turn to the group of shivering women. 

More orders are barked out and the women are marched in two single file lines towards a large, looming mechanism in the middle of a grass-less courtyard. A blade hangs suspended between two wooden posts and from the looks of it has either rusted from exposure to the elements and lack of use, or has been used often, and not cleaned. 

Either way, Elsa can fill in the blanks on her own and feels the fear creep into her limbs. The blade hits the wooden block once, making a chopping noise that reminds her of the butcher her mother used to frequent. 

Gradually as the line moves up, the chopping noise becomes louder and louder and she feels a strange sense of relief when she is at the front of the line. 

Release hangs on the tip of the blood covered blade and as she hangs her head over the threshold, the screeching sound of the blade is the very last thing she hears. 

Elsa wakes up screaming, the rolling thunder outside providing the sound effects for her night terror. As the storm closes in on the castle, the lightning outside becomes brighter and brighter. Each bright flash offers her a rare glimpse into the room she sleeps in. 

Peter's footsteps reach her ears and as he approaches her bed, another bright flash offers her a momentary glimpse at the man she has fallen in love with. Beautifully sculpted features are marred with worry, and sleep. As soon as the sight came, it is gone again and she feels herself wishing the lightning back to light up her life. 

She can't control the tears that are running down her face, or the desperation that has taken the place in her normally sure voice. Her hand searches the empty air before her until it connects with his night shirt. 

Peter seems to know exactly what has happened as he bends over her panicking form. 

“What's happening to me?” The broken tone in her voice tugs at Peter and he smooths the hair from her forehead. 

The lightning is getting brighter still and it lights up the room for a split second. Elsa's nearly broken eyes focus for a moment and find blue, endless eyes and a kind smile before the features disappear into the inky darkness that takes over once more. 

“Let me in, I can help.” Peter gathers the woman into his arms and sits on the bed, his back against the headboard. 

Sensing no other option, Elsa tells him everything. Sparing no detail, she paints him a mental picture of the horror from the strange depths of her guilt ridden subconsciousness. The rain makes for a fitting backdrop to her tale and by the time she finishes, her voice is tiny. 

“I had no idea.” Peter is shocked at the brutalities that she had described to him and when he looks down at her, she seems to be looking straight at him, as if she was waiting for something. 

As the storm outside abated, Elsa seemed to grow more and more tired. When Peter places her underneath her covers, she is very nearly asleep. 

He is almost out of her room when a tiny “Stay,” beckons him back. Peter won't argue her now, not when his own interests clearly aren't in going back to his own bed. She seems relieved when he toes his slippers off and climbs in beside her. Settling on top of the covers, he wraps an arm around her and pulls her shivering frame closer to him. 

Having never slept with a woman before, he finds himself nervous at first. But when she turns to face him and tucks her head underneath his chin, whatever doubts or questions he may have had are erased by the gentle hum of her breath against his throat. 

When Elsa wakes the following morning, she feels confusion at the presence of another person in her bed. Maneuvering her hand up over the covers, she finds a familiar arm slung across her waist and she strains to remember the events of the night before that led up to now. 

“Peter?” The response to her questioning tone is a squeezing around her middle and a low, throaty chuckle in her ear. 

“You've guessed correctly.”

“Oh, do I win a prize?” Her tone is clearly sarcastic, but Peter isn't one to disappoint. 

Soft lips that are still thick with sleep light on hers and she smiles against the kiss. “I like those prizes.”

“Really now, I will be sure to remember that later.” Footsteps and the trilling voice of her handmaiden reach her ears and she giggles, covering her laughing with the covers. 

“Miss? Are you awake yet?” Lana ventures further into the room and squeaks out an apology before hurrying out of the room. “I'll come back later!” 

Peter snickers before sitting up beside her, running a hand through his own wayward blonde strands. “I should probably get back to my rooms. I hear we have quite the full day ahead of us.” 

Elsa remembers finally the events of the previous night. The nightmare is the first thing to flash in front of her eyes, followed by the few snippets of Peter's visage she was able to catch during the lightning strikes. 

“You never told me your eyes were blue.” This statement strikes him in an odd place inside and he turns to her, a perplexed look on his face. 

“How did you know they were blue?” 

Elsa smiles, tracing absentminded patterns into the quilt that is still covering her. “The lightning last night. Do you remember what I told you a few days ago?”

“You actually saw me?” 

“Only for a split second.” The disappointment in her voice is hard to not notice and Peter sighs, a smile coming to his face. 

“You stuck around, that's what counts.” Peter kisses her forehead and moves to get up. 

“We had better get up. Lana will be back any minute.” Elsa sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and swings her legs out from the warm covers. 

“Mmm, you're right.” The pair stands up and Elsa wraps her arms around his shoulders. 

“Thank you for last night.” 

“I'm glad I could help. I'll see you soon.” Peter gives her one last parting kiss and leaves the woman standing beside her bed with a serene smile on her face. She would be okay, he sensed. Elsa was never the type to be down for very long. 

He wonders absentmindedly about a jeweler and her ring size some time later that morning.


	10. Chapter 10

It's only when Elsa is alone that she confronts the memory loss that has been eating at her. She struggles to remember anything about her house in downtown Salzburg, but she comes up short. The quiet existence she led in the small town seems almost a lifetime ago. It' a strange feeling to not remember where you have come from. Elsa's fragmented mind remembers parental figures, but the memories she has are vague at best. Her mother's quiet chiding voice, and her fathers obvious favoritism of his eldest daughter has all but faded from her memory. 

Weekend drives to Vienna to pick apples in her grandparents orchard were shrouded in a strange mist that fogged most of her sighted memories. It is a curious thing she finds during her afternoon meditation. A steadily expanding wall of nothing blocks her from what used to be an expansive memory field. Exploring the mental block further only causes a sharp pain in the side of her head and she backs away slowly. 

She hadn't been blind for so long that these things no longer held any meaning for her. She was still able to identify color, and facial features. The night in her bedroom with Peter and the lightning was still at the forefront of her mind. 

Her old life is falling away from her as she continues to find herself wrapped up in this new world, and her new life with the Pevensies. She feels less and less like her old self as the days pass her by. 

It's not just her. She knows that Susan and Lucy have been experiencing the same thing. What frightens her is that she is not sure the ends that the progressive amnesia will reach. Which memories will be next to dissipate into the unreached depths of her mind? An unusual memory jumps out as she concludes her meditation.

Suzanne is climbing a tree on the outskirts of the city. The tree is one of their favorites because the rough bark makes it easy to advance up its branches, but mother gets angry when she has to re hem a dress or darn a sock after her daughters come home. Elsa reaches for the branches above her, hoisting her tiny frame further into the supple green leaves. Suzanne is a few branches up, nesting herself comfortably in her usual spot. One leg dangles over the edge while the other is pushed up against a knot in the branch. 

She climbs higher still, settling for the branch on the opposite side of her sister. 

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” The question is out of the norm for the usual things Suzanne asks about when they are alone. The boy down the street occupies most of their conversations, and it's an unusual deterrence from their usual manner, but Elsa doesn't mind. 

“I want to help people.” 

The answer doesn't seem to satisfy her radically different twin, who merely laughs in response. “I'm going to be a famous ballerina. After I finish at the studio, I'm going to sign on with the company in Vienna. My name is going to be up in the marquees all over the world. Just wait.” 

Elsa clings to that final summer in her mind, praying that it remains untouched by the soft erosion of time. 

\---

Somewhere in the far end of the castle, Peter is pacing. King Lune had requested they meet in his private study to discuss certain private matters. Now that Peter was staring at the solid oak door that led into his private chambers, he felt nervous.

“Peter, my boy!” Lune opens the door to his chambers and beckons the young king inside. 

“King Lune, always a pleasure to see you.” Peter clasps his hand in a warm handshake 

“Sit down, sit down! Make yourself comfortable.” King Lune sits in one of the oversized wing backed chairs sitting caddy corner from a large fire place. 

Peter takes a seat like he is told and looks around the large study. King Lune is certainly fond of his open spaces. 

“Peter, there is something that we need to discuss.” 

Peter raises an eyebrow in the direction of the older king and purses his lips. 

“What are your intentions with Lady Markham?” Lune isn't one to get straight down to business, and Peter knows he is serious. 

“Intentions?” Peter isn't sure if this is any of the older king's business. “I'm not quite certain what you mean?” 

“Do you intend to take her as your bride?” Lune plucks a pipe and tobacco from a small chest on a table beside his chair, loading tobacco into the bowl with a keen eye towards the young king. 

Peter knew that internally, he would have to address this sooner or later. They could only dance for so long until the song would stop. Breathing in deeply, he comes to terms with the feelings inside him. “I hope to, yes.” 

King Lune smiles a fatherly smile, one that he had seen many times from his own father. “I know you do.” 

“But then, why did you ask?” 

Lune lights the tobacco and inhales deeply, the muscles in his shoulders going lax. “You needed to know. I can tell you have been struggling with this decision for a while.” 

“I have. I love her, but I just wonder if it's the right thing.” 

Lune raises an eyebrow and releases a few smoke rings into the air. “You are good for each other. And she will be good for the country. Because you are king, this decision isn't only about you.”

Peter nods, considering this information. “I know. That's why this is so difficult.” 

“Peter, she has a good heart, and she will take care of you the way you have been taking care of her.” Lune gives him a knowing glance and Peter wonders how he could have possibly known. 

“She has been having night terrors, Peter. It's okay. I know.” 

“I don't know how much I can tell you. The things she saw in her dreams are horrifying.” Peter doesn't say much, but what little he relays makes the older king sit back in his chair and think for a moment. 

“It's no wonder she had such a strong opinion against slaughtering the Underground.” 

Peter is taken aback by this. The older king doesn't seem to be as horrified as he had been when the information had been passed to him. “That's a rather caviler way to be taking this.” 

The king huffs on his pipe one last time before extinguishing the tiny flame. “I don't put much stock in dreams, or nightmares. Which seems to be all this is.” 

Peter has his doubts, but this conversation had strayed from it's original purpose. “Right then. Thank you for the advice.” Peter stands up slowly and prepares to leave the study. 

“Peter, one last thing.” Lune peeks around from the wing backed chair. 

The young king stops in his tracks and turns to face the back of the cloth chair. 

“Be very careful with her. She is special. I can feel it.” 

Peter thinks about the contradiction of a king who does not believe in dreams, but puts stock into intuition as he leaves the study. 

\---

Somewhere in a meadow not quite that far from Cair Paravel, Lucy is dreaming. Milky white clouds dance above her head, mingling with the perfect sunlight. The day is bright and blue. Susan might call it picturesque. The heat of the summer has finally faded and has brought forth the last of the beautiful days before the chill of fall. The whole of Narnia is suspended in the twilight between seasons and Lucy is enjoying it while she can. 

Spring, fall and winter are all wonderful, and each have their own breathtaking views and wonders. But Lucy will always be a summer child. It isn't because school is out; and she no longer has to face the older girls who tease her. Before Narnia, before the war, summertime was a treasured few months spent in the English countryside. Picnics in orchards, and driftwood fires at the beach lingered in her mind from her life before. 

Having worn herself out dancing among the blue bells and buttercups, she is laying in the grass, her fingers playing with the long grass. 

Tumnus seems to notice her happy mood, and makes mention of it as he sits down in the grass beside her. 

“I was going to set out a blanket, but I see you have grown quite comfortable already.”

Lucy gives him a pleased smile and sits up, tossing a hand through her auburn hair. “Oh yes, it's wonderful today.” 

Tumnus smiles one of his many 'Lucy smiles' and gazes over the empty fields of swaying grass and occasional trees. 

“Tumnus, do you think we will be friends for a long time?” Lucy knew better than to say forever. No one could remain friends for that long. 

The much older faun didn't speak for a long time. Fauns aged quite differently from the rest of the creatures in Narnia. He was well into his second century of life, and he would live longer still. Lucy on the other hand was just coming into her early teenage years. From what their long conversations indicated, humans tended to only live eighty or so years before their bodies gave out on them. It made him ache in some foreign part of his stomach to think that in just sixty to seventy short years, Lucy Pevensie would most likely be gone. 

“As long as we can be.” Tumnus finds it hard to speak around the sudden lump that forms in his throat, but if Lucy picked up on it, she said nothing.

Nothing else was said between the two for a very long time. Each seemed lost in their own turbulent seas of thought. 

\---

Edmund loved the library. The knowledge that he had only so far scratched the surface of the immense bank of information had both staggered him, and comforted him. 

Many of his afternoons were spent sprawled over a table with books and scrolls threatening to topple over in their heaping stacks. 

In England, books had never fascinated him as much as they did now. Musty pages covered in waves of print and occasional rivers in the text made him dizzy and he would abandon a book halfway through it's journey. Literature was boring, bland in England. It had all been read at some point, and Edmund didn't like rehashing these things out. 

In Narnia, scrolls were the product of tedium, and study on the part of the large scholarly conclave in various parts of their known world. There was a scroll for everything, and even scrolls for the things that weren't 

He studied everything he could. Fencing, diplomacy, chemistry, astronomy on clearest of Narnian nights. Edmund became involved in the planing of the first astral observatory attached to the castle, just beyond the court yard. Many things still had yet to be set into motion, but Edmund is never short on confidence. 

The stars were different here. He supposed that meant that wherever this place was in relation to his Finchley home was across vast oceans and sweeping mountain ranges. 

For all his hours spent in the library learning customs, and histories, and all manners of things; he still has yet to put the large part of it into practice. Susan and Peter handle the matters of court on their own for now. Lucy is still far too young to be a part of most discussions, and Edmund is busy already with other things. 

He always has excuses as to why he can't be around his family. 

It's not because he does not love them. In his heart, he does love them all very dearly. He has even taken to not making snide remarks whenever Elsa brushes past him, her fingers taut in the air for barriers she can't see. At first, keeping his tongue civil had been out of respect for Peter. But after Elsa had warmed up to everyone except him, he began to feel a little bit left out. 

He, so wrapped up in his world of ink and art and wonder can't relate to the older woman who can't perceive of such things. 

It's not his fault. Elsa is just one of those things that Edmund fails to understand on the same level as the rest of his world. It's off putting, and annoying. But Edmund tries. 

Susan has been sitting in the same spot for hours. Her spine is twinging and her shoulders ache from the long day spent on her throne. She suspects her weariness is showing when the satyr's at the door begin turning people away. Various citizens had come to Cair Paravel to request certain favors or bring certain matters to light. 

After a long day of requisitions for more grain for the fields and sightings of strange, savage beasts Susan had had her fill that day. 

Standing up to her full height she feels her back pop and she stretches her arms in the air. It's been a long day and she knows there is a nice pot of tea and a warm bath waiting for her in her rooms. 

Elin takes good care of Susan, and the two are very accustomed to each other. Susan cannot recall a time that it had been any other way, or that she had been anything but fully accommodated for. 

It's a very different life that she leads here, in comparison to her plain existence in Finchley. There she was the brainy know it all, an annoyance to most everyone outside her tiny family.

The war with Germany had changed them all. Peter and Edmund fought for dominance and Susan retreated further into her encyclopaedia's, leaving Lucy to her lonesome with her dolls. School was easy and Susan didn't need to rely on her looks to get her where she needed to be, but it was always an option. Her father might discourage such behavior, but he wasn't exactly around to put up a fight anymore. 

It took an entirely new land and a new set of rules to reunite the broken family. 

Perhaps it was the new setting, or maybe something within her changed. She was the gentle queen, and she knew nothing of this strange land she called home. So she relied on a charming smile painted on full lips and gleaming, nearly straight teeth. Please's and Thank you's were said often and she was rarely without a smile for anyone. 

Day by day, it became less of the elaborate charade it started out as. 

It was a curious thing; one that she would rarely reflect on.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note, the characters Bodhan and Sandal belong to Bioware, and respectively, their own universe. I only borrowed them in the spirit of the kind of merchants they are.

“I'm your only chance at getting out of this alive. They all wanted to burn you for what you are !” Elsa has been screaming for hours and her throat has gone raspy and dry. The rope that is securely fastened around her wrists has left the skin underneath chapped and blistered; she feels helpless. Her dress is torn and mud clings to a few spots on the hemming, but she can't be bothered to worry about it. From what she can tell, she is atop a dais, surrounded by a throng of creatures churning, waiting for her execution. 

“And what are we?” A gnome pokes around from a minotaur and adds more kindling to the pile at her feet. 

“Lost. That's all. This can be fixed!” Tears of desperation are falling freely and she sags against the pole she is bound against. 

“Awh, don't loose hope darlin.” Someone's hand is on her face and she is sorely tempted to bite, but the foul smell is enough to make her gag and foil any plan of biting. “I'm sure King Peter is mounting a rescue now. What with all four of his security detail and that dumb halfbreed that he drags around.” 

“You will show him the respect he deserves as your king.” Her words are dripping with acid and the man in front of her snickers. 

“We do not bow to the monarchs enthroned at Cair Paravel. Our ruler, the true sovereign queen will return to us. And on that day, the monarchs will fall!” A thundering roar of applause rippled through the crowd and reverberated off of the stone walls. 

Twelve Hours Earlier

Peter looked to the northern horizon as dawn kissed the eastern lands. Standing in the open field facing the treeline and the mountain range, he took a deep breath. The air here was fresh, and sweet. But his heart ached for his family. 

“Sire, we are nearly ready to depart. The caravan is being loaded as we speak.” Oreius had approached seemingly out of nowhere and Peter shook the cobwebs out of his head. 

“We are making good time already, excellent.” 

“If we go quickly, we can arrive just in time to watch the sun set over the sea tonight.” Oreius' voice was tinged with excitement, and nostalgia. It had been a while since either of them had seen the sight and they were more than anxious to return home. 

“That will be a sight.” Peter turns around and watches Natick lead Elsa to her horse. Her hand flinches at the ears, expecting to find something out of place, and Peter laughs. 

Seemingly at the sound of his voice, his own white unicorn trots up next to him and he mounts it with precision. 

“Allen, you look well.” Peter tosses a hand through the unicorn's hair and he shakes his mane. 

“They treated us very well here, sire. Are we ready to depart?” 

“Very nearly, I think.” Peter nudges Allen towards the rest of the group and finds Elsa looking uneasy on her horse. 

“Have you ever ridden before?” Elsa can hear the laughter in his voice and she blushes, throwing an irritated look somewhere over his left shoulder. 

“No, is it that obvious?” 

Peter smiles and turns his horse towards the northern mountains. “T'krit will walk you through it. Trust him, he knows what he is doing.” 

Oreius looks over the group and waves an arm to the back of the group, and upon receiving the signal the group of travelers make haste home. 

After working their way through the mountains and clearing the last of the rocks, the group finds a lazy stream, slowly cutting into the land. 

“Lets stop here, we are making good time.” Peter is the first one off his horse and he stretches his tired muscles. The sun is high in the sky, but a bank of clouds is advancing towards the group, promising shade, but threatening them with possible rainfall. 

Elsa slides off her horse and walks towards the sound of the gushing water. Her back is aching from the already long ride and she isn't ready for the next leg of the journey. But they are well into Narnian country, and she can recognize the change already. The animals seem more lively here, and a few of them have even said “hello” as the caravan traveled north. 

Tossing a hand through her wayward, growing curls she sits at the edge of the embankment, away from the rest of the group. 

“Hello, fine sirs! Can we interest you in some of our wares?” A voice that does not belong to any of the members of the group reaches her ears and she hears the familiar pattern of hooves and wheels on a decaying road. 

Merchants, that much was apparent. Peter squinted in the afternoon sun at what looked like a father-son pair. An older dwarven man drove the cart with a younger clearly non dwarven man walking beside. 

“That depends, what do you have for sale?” 

“No no, it doesn't work like that. I need to know a man first before I take his coin. Name's Bodhan, and this is Sandal.” 

“Peter, it's a pleasure to meet you Bodhan.” 

Bodhan ambles to the back of his cart, motioning for Peter to follow him. “What can I interest you in today? You seem like a seasoned traveler, anything catch your eye?” Bodhan whips the cloth off the large bundle of items and as Peter's eyes comb the large pile, nothing looks like anything he would ever need. 

“I'm looking for something more, exotic. For a lady friend.” 

Bodhan shares a look with Peter before letting out a large laugh. “I think I know what you mean. You don't want any of this junk.” Sandal moves around to the back of the wagon and removes a pouch from his belt. 

“Before I show you what's in here, I need to know if you have enough for something like this. I don't need to be wasting my time, you see.” 

Peter arcs an eyebrow, but says nothing. “Money is no issue.” Being king has it's benefits, one of them being deep pockets. 

The jewels are taken out of the pouch one by one, and each is more beautiful than the last. But none of them would hold any appeal for a woman like Elsa. Finally, as Sandal pulls out the last jewel, Peter's eyes catch a faint flash; a tiny wisp of lightning is caught in a silvery blue gem, flickering occasionally. 

Bodhan sees his eyes and knows this is the sale that will pay his bar tab in the next town. “The lightning gem caught your eye, didn't it?” 

“How much do you want for it?” Peter's hand covers the money pouch on his belt and he sizes up the merchant again. 

“Eh, Five hundred sovereign marks would make it yours.” 

“Five hundred for a parlor trick?” 

“Damn it, four fifty.” The dwarf is sweating now, not paying attention to Sandal's curious gaze over his left shoulder. 

“Four hundred, final offer or I walk away.” 

“Come on, kid. I'm loosing my shirt here.” 

Peter nods, and turns away towards the small encampment of wayward Narnians when the sigh of the merchant brings him about face. 

“Fine, fine. Four hundred. This must be a stand up lady for you to be spending this much.” Bodhan puts the jewel into a small velvet satchel and holds out his empty hand. After a few tense seconds, four gold coins clatter into his hand and he releases the pouch to the young man. 

“Nice doing business with you.” 

“You as well, sire.” The last statement makes Peter freeze and he looks into knowing, brown eyes. 

“How on earth did you know?” 

“I'm a merchant. It's my job to know everything about everyone. It's how I make my money kid. I bought that jewel for thirty silver and a dirty story.” 

“Are you saying I just got swindled?” 

“I'm saying that whoever that jewel is for better be damn special.” Bodhan and Sandal go on their way, Sandal chattering about a napping. Peter isn't sure what he means until he looks over to the camp. 

Natick, Alfrane, Oreius, and Galfney are all accounted for and sitting around the caravan with their horses. But Elsa is nowhere to be found. 

“Oreius, where is Elsa?” 

Oreius' face is crestfallen as he produces a note. The paper is thin, almost to the point of ripping and crude markings are fading with time. But Peter can make out the message. 

“The underground has her.” Peter feels his heart sink as he hands the note back over. 

“Sire, we know where they came in the camp at. If we follow the tunnels to their headquarters, we can infiltrate them and make a plan.” Natick is pointing over to a small cave on the far end of the stream. The cave is barely even a hole in the ground and is far too small for the horses or the caravan to fit through. 

Thinking quickly, Peter looks around at his guard. “Natick, Alfrane, Galfney, Oreius, take the horses and the caravan back to the castle. I will infiltrate the underground and return with her.” 

“It's a suicide mission. You are too easily recognized.” 

“I'm not leaving her down there!” Peter roared at the group, his rage a product of his growing fear for Elsa's safety. 

Natick steps forward, his hand on his sword. “I'm not letting you go down there alone, sire. I know those tunnels and the people in them.” 

Peter nods, his hand on his sword as he heads for the water line. “Lets go then.” 

After what seems like hours, Peter and Natick navigate their way into the underground, unfettered by dangling roots or the occasional rodent of unusual size. The pair comes to an atrium of sorts carved into the stone and as they go further in, they hear the sure signs of civilization. 

Cappa, as the residents called it, was a massive rock city underneath Narnia. Complete with commerce, housing, and entertainment. This place had everything. 

Crowds of mainly dwarves swarmed to the middle of the area where a large group had gathered around a raised platform. 

“There,” Natick points to where someone had been strung up on a pole and Peter's heart jumps in his throat when he sees familiar blonde curls dancing in the light of the nearby fire. 

“The place is mobbed. We can't get up there without causing a scene.” The strategist in Peter doesn't see a way out and when he resigns to cutting his way through the crowd, he feels a pressure on his back. Turning around, he finds a giant Kelpie looming in front of him. 

“I know who you are, and I know what you are doing. I can help.” 

“How?” 

The Kelpie shook his dripping mane towards Elsa, then pointed his snout towards several other Kelpies stationed around the city. 

“We want to repay what we did, and this is an opportunity for us to show our loyalty.” 

“Loyalty to who?” Peter knows he shouldn't be trusting a Kelpie of all things, but he is out of options. 

“We don't have time for this, they are going to execute her.” 

“I don't even know your name.” Peter is desperate for any reason to trust him and when he looks the beast in the eyes, he knows what he must do. 

“Kal'thok. My brother will take your man through the crowd to create a distraction, while we go up and save the pretty lady.” 

“Sire, this is crazy.” Natick is raking a hand through his thinning hair, trying to find a way around trusting the Kelpies. 

“Crazy enough to work.” Peter mounts Kal'thok without another thought and the Kelpie motions to his brother on the far edge. 

A plan is set into motion, and the seconds tick by like hours. 

Natick is scooped up by the other Kelpie horse and at a breakneck speed is taken through the crowd, screaming the whole way through. Peter would laugh if it wasn't such a crazy plan. 

“I trust you.” He growls into Kal'thok's ear and the Kelpie rears up before charging at the dais. Peter reaches for his sword as he nears Elsa and with a resounding 'thwack', he cuts her wrists free and hoists her onto the horse. 

Kal'thok takes them through a maze like structure of tunnels before emerging out onto the meadow before the castle. Night has fallen on Narnia and in the distance, Peter can see the torches lit on the seaside castle. It is definitely a sight for sore eyes. Somewhere off to the side of him, he can hear Natick let out a loud whistle to the guard atop the castle walls and Peter watches the doors open up, revealing a court yard and his pacing sister.

Kal'thok and his brother approach the castle swiftly before dropping their cargo just inside the doors and Peter hears them gallop off the cliff into the sea, but is concerned with other things. 

“Peter, what on earth happened?” Susan is standing over him as he cradles Elsa in his arms. His knife is making quick work of the remaining rope on her wrists and when it releases the angry blisters from the rope make his blood boil. 

“The underground. Something has to be done.” 

“They got her?” Susan's hand flies up to her lips. The underground had been subdued for some time now, it was hard to think that they had done something so bold. 

“Took her right out from under us.” Peter picks her up and strides into the castle and up to her rooms.   
“Get Drin.”

The night is long for everyone, and after Elsa is taken care of, Peter finally makes his way to his own set of rooms. Sleep claims him almost instantly.


End file.
